Drops of water wearing through the stone
by Lilya
Summary: How long can a person hold on before collapsing? How long until he give up, lose his grip, until he breaks into glass splinters?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: All the characters – except one – belong to J. K. Rowling. 

                   The song "Dance (while the music still goes on)" belongs to Abba.  

Author's notes: 

1) A big, big thank you to my American beta reader, Daughter of Olorin. If you are reading this, it's just thanks to her. 

2) The Victoria Cross is the highest medal for military honor in England, usually posthumously awarded.

3) This fiction was written before the fifth book was published, so I had to made up the last years. No OOTP spoiler.   

**Gutta cavat lapidem**

My name is Josephine Rowland and I'm a witch. A couple of years ago, I went to visit my grandmother and…well, I had a weird accident. My grandmother lived a few miles away from a small village called Hogsmeade. So, being not far away from there due to my work (I'm half French and I live and work in Marseille), I decided to pay a call on her. I've always hated traveling via Floo Powder, so I took the wheel of the Mini I had rented and left, spending almost all day traveling. Around 9 P.M., while I was driving in a lonely country road,  I saw a boy walking in the headlights on the edge of the road a few meters ahead. I was driving very slowly because of the darkness. So when I passed by him I noticed he seemed young, too much to go around alone in that wild place. So I stopped and rolled the window down. Hey, do you need a lift? I asked him when he came near. 

Yes, please he said, opening the car door and getting in. 

Maybe we can be useful to each other I said I don't know these surroundings very well and I want to reach a village around here…. 

Are you going to Hogsmeade? he asked me. 

Yes, how can you know that? I asked him puzzled. 

This is the road to Hogsmeade and a Muggle could never run along it. 

Oh, yeah, obviously I said, not totally persuaded. We started chatting and, while we did so, I studied him attentively. His short stature and small frame at first had made me mistaken him for a boy, but looking at him closely it was clear he was older, about sixteen years old. His skin was milky white and his hair was so blonde that they seemed made of moonlight, but it was the look he had in his gray blue-veined eyes, like two pools of liquid mercury, that caught my attention. 

We traveled for tree quarters of hour or so, until suddenly my fellow-traveler cut off our chatting: Here we are. I looked around: except for the part of the road lit by the headlights, all was wrapped up in the darkness. I could barely make out the dark shapes of the trees. Over there he said to me pointing an indefinite point. I  sharpened my sight trying to see something, but there was nothing but a lawn barely enlightened by the moonlight. Are you… I started turning to him, but my voice died in my throat – he was gone. I pulled up short and got out of the car: I looked around, but didn't see anything. It was just like he had never existed.                        

Ten minutes later, I reached the village. Instead of  going straight to my grandmother's, I stopped at The Three Broomsticks. I urgently needed something hot and strong. Rosaura, Madam Rosmerta's daughter, gave me a good glass of aromatic hydromel and I took advantage of it to ask her about the boy I met. I thought he was a student of the nearby school, Hogwarts. 

Rosaura knitted her eyebrows, trying to concentrate. No, there's no student who can fit your description…I mean, there was one, but it was many years ago… she shook her head and went back behind the counter. I took a sip of the amber liquid I had in my glass and right in that moment an old man with snow-white hair and lively gray eyes, approached me. 

Excuse me, miss, but I couldn't help overhearing what you were telling Rosaura…. 

Do you know that boy? I cut him off Do you know where I can find him? 

The old man looked away: Yeah, I have known him…for many, many years. We went to school together, at Hogwarts. 

I opened my eyes wide: But…but how…

 How is it possible? My dear, unlike me, he can't grow old. Ghosts don't grow old. It took some moments before the true meaning of what he said could sink in. Listen to me… the old man said to me with a kind voice You don't have to worry about him. 

He took two fingers at his hat-brim and moved to leave but I stopped him: Wait! The man looked at me curiously: You…you said you knew him… he nodded thoughtfully If you don't mind…would you…talk me about him? Who was he? What happened to him?. 

The old man looked at me surprised: Are you really interested in this old story?. I nodded decidedly. He shook his shoulders: As you wish. He sat down at my table and ordered a glass of Butterbeer. His name… he started …was Draco. Draco Malfoy. 

Malfoy…Wasn't he…?  

Yea In his eyes appeared a mournful shadow He was Lucius Malfoy's son. And that, my dear, was his course…. The old man started to narrate. What follows now is more or less the story he told me.                               


	2. First Year

FIRST YEAR 

Blaise Zabini whistled merrily while he walked down the platform 9 ¾. It was his first year at Hogwarts, the great school of wizardry, and he couldn't wait to start. Suddenly, he saw a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eyes. He turned around swiftly but didn't see anyone. "Stop it!" he scolded himself mentally "You can't became paranoid every time you see someone with blonde hair. **_He_** is not here. He's gone to Drumstrang…Come on, relax". Repeating similar sentences to himself, he got on the train.       

A few hours later, Blaise left his compartment to go to the bathroom. In the corridor, he found himself face-to-face with a blonde  boy followed by two great big guys. He didn't need to look at him twice – he would have recognize him everywhere. **_You_**! he cried out full of surprise and horror, like he was facing Lucifer himself. "That's not very far from it" he thought. 

The blonde one didn't seemed too happy to see him as well. However he managed to produce a forced grin: Hello, Blaise. It's been a while since we last saw each other. 

What the hell are you doing here? gasped Blaise. 

I'm going to Hogwarts, what a stupid question. Smart as usual, I see. 

Shouldn't you be at Drumstrang? Blaise replied recovering from the shock. 

The blonde one shook his shoulders: Change of program. My mother thought it was too far away. So, here I am.. Blaise threw him a dirty look but nobody spoke for some minutes. You don't look too happy to see an old schoolmate again, Blaise hissed the blonde one glaring at him. Should I? replied the other Anyway, I'm not. And now, if you will excuse me… he got around them and went locking himself up in the bathroom, holding his head between his hands.  It's terrible… he murmured It's really terrible…What will Derrick say?                

To Blaise Zabini's great annoyance, Draco Malfoy ended up in Slytherin just like him. Blaise went to sit as far away as possible from him, near his friend Orson Derrick. Have you seen who's there? he murmured helping himself with the soup. 

Yeah. This is a real trouble… murmured Derrick. 

Do you think we should do something? asked the younger boy. Well…we'll have to tell someone sooner or later. 

Let's go to speak to Professor Snape tonight. 

And with what proofs? He'll never listen to us Orson Derrick stared at his plate And then…I wouldn't believe it myself if I haven't seen… 

We can't wait until somebody gets hurt, Orson! 

Well…maybe it won't happen anything….maybe it'll be alright.. Blaise stole a brief glance at the object of their discussion: Not with Malfoy around. You'll see..          

The two boys' dark previsions seemed to find confirmation when Slytherin lost the first match of the Quidditch season to Gryffindor. Marcus Flint, the captain of the team, never stopped repeating the Gryffindor had had "a damned luck." Every time he said so Blaise Zabini and Orson Derrick exchanged a meaningful glance and then looked toward Malfoy, who, even if he was aware of it, never glanced back.   

Later, the situation was rebalanced thanks to the one hundred fifty points Harry Potter & company made Gryffindor lose, but this wasn't enough to reassure the two guys. In fact, at the end of the school year, the House Cup was won by Gryffindor. Leaving the Great Hall, Blaise Zabini hissed to Orson Derrick: I told you we should've told it someone.. A few minutes later, in the dormitory,  Blaise Zabini found himself face to face with the hated Draco. The two boys packed their things silently. 

Suddenly, Draco spoke: It wasn't my fault, Blaise. 

Yeah, it was growled the boy. Be careful, Malfoy…I like this school, I like being here…I wont' let you screw everything up again, okay?

Draco didn't answer and looked away.    


	3. Second Year

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! 

to LostStralight1: thanks for your suggestion, but unfortunately I have to stick to arrows for dialogues: quotations are already used for thoughts and italic for foreign languages   

to SilverMoonbeam1: I've checked: Blaise is a French male name.   

to Catmint: I'm sorry: I hadn't noticed it was wrong. 

to Casey, Raiining, Phobe and Anya Malfoy: thank you very much! Here's the third chapter, I hope you'll like it

Now, let's start with the… 

SECOND YEAR

While the students took a seat at the tables, whispers and murmurs ran thorough the Great Hall. Have heard about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley? 

…on a **_flying car_**! 

Unbelievable! How could they do it? 

I saw it arrive, really! It came out of the clouds like a rocket! 

Hey, Blaise, have you heard? asked Orson Derrick going near his friend. About Potter and Weasley? I dare say I have the whole school is talking about it 

No, not about them… Blaise turned to look at him. He was very pale and nervous. 

It's about… he cast a glance toward Draco Malfoy, who sat at the opposite end of the table They told me he wants to show up for the Quidditch's tryouts. 

What?! cried out Blaise, attracting the glances of a couple of fourth-year girls sat nearby. But he can't do it! he added, still in shock, trying to keep his voice down. 

Derrick made a face: He has **_already _**done it. 

We can't allow it at all costs. 

And how? Sabotaging his broom? Knocking him out? Derrick lowered his voice Remember, if you touch just a hair on his head, than you'll have to face Lucius Malfoy…and he's not the kind of man I want to deal with.

Blaise's features darkened: So…we can just hope he doesn't pass or else… 

Our probabilities to win the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup will go below zero. completed Derrick before being hushed by a Prefect because the Sorting Hat had already begun his song.              

Further, at the same table, Draco Malfoy wasn't listening to the song as well; he was thinking about Blaise and Orson -- his old schoolmates. He had seen them talking thickly and didn't need to rack his brain to understand what they were talking about. Distant voices filled his mind and he couldn't suppress the shudder that shook his body. For the first time after a long time, he found himself praying. "Lord, please…" he thought. "Everything but that. Please, don't let it happen again…I couldn't bear it." But the prayer didn't comfort him. Sighing, he focused on the Sorting. Instead of staring at the guy on the stool (He never did it. He remembered too well how it had been for him…how he had felt his stomach writhing in front of all those staring eyes…his silent prayer to be a Slytherin, or else his father would be mad at him…), he let his gaze glide up and down the line of waiting students. He smiled comprehensively at their frightened faces. In a certain way, sitting there looking at them made him feel older, but at the same time he couldn't help but wondering about their future. A girl with long, straight dark brown hair and violet eyes caught his gaze. She seemed less nervous and frightened of the others, but it was clear she was making a great effort to dominate her nerves. "I wonder in which House she'll be sorted…" thought Draco while Ida Barton sat down at the Ravenclaws' table. The Sorting went on, but Draco only half-listened; he kept staring at that girl. Every time a feminine name was called he held his breath, waiting  to see her stepping forward, but she always stood still in her place. 

In the end, after Brian Cromwell, who was sorted into Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall called out; Cross, Victoria and violet-eyed girl marched decidedly toward the Sorting Hat. While it was lowered upon her head, he saw her clenching her fist on the skirt of the school uniform. 

After a few seconds, the Hat hollered Slytherin and the girl stepped down toward their table smiling kindly. 

She sat exactly in front of him. Hi. she started off in a shrill voice with a foreign accent. I'm Victoria Cross…but I guess you've already heard it… 

He should have been deaf  to not hear it interposed Pansy Parkinson. Draco gave her a dirty look and she hurriedly drew back. It was the kind of look that told her she had gone too far. 

For some strange reason, that girl moved his curiosity. Nice to meet you. I'm Draco Malfoy. He studied closely her face waiting for a reaction, but he didn't see any. You're not from around here, are you? he asked then, referring also to her strange accent. 

Victoria nodded: I was born and grew up in Italy: my parents work there but they preferred to send me to Hogwarts so I could receive "a typical English education." she spoke in an exaggerated haughty tone. Draco laughed softly. Inexplicably he liked that girl, and it was quite strange considering he had never **_really_** liked anyone, maybe Professor Snape…but it was different with Victoria. Inexplicably different.                                 

After a beginning full of promises, the relations between the two Slytherin chilled suddenly when Victoria saw how Draco acted toward the other people and heard his acid comments. She couldn't understand this sudden  transformation and Draco didn't have much time to think about Victoria -- he was too busy training for the Quidditch tryouts. He wasn't the only one worried about the tryouts. Blaise Zabini and Orson Derrick were more worried than him. One evening, in the dormitory, Zabini cornered him metaphorically. I heard you want to try to get a place in the Quidditch team he hissed in a low voice I hope it's not true… 

What if it is? replied warily Draco It's my right to do so. 

Wasn't making us lose last year enough? Do you want to repeat your enterprise this year as well? he growled ferociously. 

I've already told you, Zabini: it-wasn't-my-fault! Try to get it into your thick head and let me be! 

**_I won't_**! You…  he roared grabbing his arm You are a public menace and I won't let you ruin **_also_** this House. 

Oh, forgive me if I exist! replied Draco furious, setting himself free from his hold and walking toward the door. When he reached the threshold, he turned around: It's not me who ruin this House, Zabini… he said slowly, with a voice dripping anger and venom …it's the superstitious idiot like you! 

Do as you wish… murmured Blaise threateningly But Derrick won't let you join the team. Draco was already gone. Irritated and wounded by his two Housemates' behavior, he got away from the Common Room and began wandering around the castle. All that mattered was going away, he didn't care where. Miraculously, he didn't find Filch or his damned cat on his way. In a passage, he heard Peeves coming his way, and, to not fall right in his arms ("That would be really the only missing thing  to complete a horrible day." he thought) he preferred to repair into the nearest corridor. He was at the fourth floor in a dusty corridor that led to several empty classrooms. The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust and his steps echoed through the empty walls in a sinister way. All those details formed a quite desolating picture. He stopped to look around when suddenly he heard a strange noise…there was somebody in one of the classrooms. 

Thinking it was a couple of older students looking for a little bit of privacy, he turned to leave because, in that moment, he didn't feel like bothering somebody, not even Potter and his gang. The noise was repeated, this time louder. It sounded like sob no more held back, like someone crying…Has Moaning Myrtle left her bathroom? he wondered. No…quite improbable. It could mean just one thing -- another student had withdrawn there to pour out his or her sadness. If he had been Harry Potter or had belonged to another House, he would have rushed into the classroom and tried to console that student, whoever he may be. But he was Draco Malfoy and belonged to the House of Slytherin, so it didn't concern him. 

Once this was clear, he had nothing left to do but leave, and yet, half-way, he came back to close the door of the classroom from which the sobs came. Even if he was quite annoyed that somebody else had already occupied what looked like the perfect place to hide, he could at least prevent someone else disturbing the other student's outburst. He came near the classroom door and moved as to close it, but he couldn't help to cast a swift glance inside and stopped literally frozen by astonishment. With her back leaned against the wall and her face half hidden on her knees, there was Victoria Cross. Draco, hesitating, entered the classroom and approached the girl. Hey… he murmured when he came near her. Victoria looked up. Her eyes were red and her cheeks streaked with tears. What happened? he asked sitting down beside her. What did they tell you?. 

Victoria stared at him with her violet eyes. H-how do you. know that…that… she murmured between the sobs. 

I went through the same thing before you. said Draco slowly, staring at the dusty floor. He moved his gaze back to the girl by his side. So, what happened? 

I-I was going to c-class when I p-passed by a group of Hufflepuff… she said, trying to stop her sobs. The bag of one of them t-tore and w-while she was picking her books up, I s-saw her purse on the floor and…and I picked it up…I w-wanted to give it back to her, I swear, I just wanted… 

Calm down, whispered Draco, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. It's all right. I'm not accusing you of anything.. 

You aren't, but they…they did! another fit of tears cut her off.  I-I didn't have time to take a step that…that they all jumped at my throat. T-they said I was trying to steal it, that I was a thief, a dirty Slytherin…they said people like me can't be trusted…

I know… said softly Draco making her lean her head against his shoulder. …I know. If you're a Slytherin, it's always like this… 

B-but I didn't mean to steal it… 

Draco shook his head: It doesn't matter what you mean to do…what matters is what you **_have_** to do. 

I…don't understand…

Draco sighed. Victoria came from a place far away, she was a stranger. You see… he started patiently. According to the…well, okay, let's call them "popular beliefs", every House of Hogwarts can be told from the others for its particular trait… He started to explain what things distinguished Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor …and then there's the House of Slytherin. You still don't know but our House is famous because it has produced the higher number of Dark Wizards. 

So we deduce that Slytherins are all a pack of criminals ready to go to the Dark Side…am I right? said softly Victoria. Draco nodded. But this is a real prejudice! she cried out scandalized. 

What did the Sorting Hat tell you when they put it on your head? asked Draco. 

He told me he saw ambition, ability to fight, many dreams to fulfill…and that I would fit well in Slytherin, I would found other people like me…I didn't know anything, so I thought Slytherin was okay…and he shouted it out loud. 

You really got yourself in trouble, Torey, murmured Draco. In the House of Slytherin, many people have dreams to fulfill…the problem is that they often remain dreams. Because when the other people discover you were a Slytherin, immediately, they look at you with suspect. Gryffindor are preferred to us, because in the collective imaginary we are the evil and they are the cure. Nobody spoke for some minutes. Then Draco moved his hand to caress Victoria's cheek, wiping away a surviving tear. You have to learn to be strong, Torey. Being a Slytherin means fight, always fight, against everything and everyone…Every school day is a battle. Maybe we aren't exactly friendly with the students from the other Houses but, like you have experimented on your own skin today, neither are they. He slipped two fingers under her chin and gently forced her to look at him in the eyes If you want to survive, you have to learn to be the toughest of the toughs. 

You succeeded…becoming the toughest of the tough, I mean. 

Draco looked away and returned to stare at the floor. I've been well trained… He closed his eyes, while scenes from his old primary school came back to his mind. 

Draco… Victoria's faltering voice snatched (or maybe saved) him from his thoughts.

Yes, Torey?

I was wondering if… if you and me could be … friends.

Draco smiled softly: Well…I dare say we can. Victoria smiled at him. So… said Draco shifting slightly. Which dreams do you want to fulfill, Miss Cross? 

Well…I want to be Minister of Magic. Draco let out a low whistle. 

Quite an ambitious plan…Do you have others? Victoria started telling him, forgetting the accident with the Hufflepuffs.                                             

A few days later, Derrick came panting into the Common Room. Blaise almost had a heart attack when he saw him. What are you doing here? he asked him, sitting down beside him. I've just come back from detention. I've had a…little argument with the Weasley twins and Professor McGonagall caught us. Marcus told me I could spare going to the tryouts. They'd have done by now. 

That's a damned bad luck! swore Zabini. Come on, let's go to see what happened. They ran out of the room, failing to notice that a first-year girl sat nearby doing her homework had casually overheard their conversation. That girl was Victoria Cross. The two conspirators were half-way to the Quidditch pitch when they saw Marcus Flint walking euphorically toward them: 

Oh, Derrick, I was looking for you. I unofficially inform you that we have a new Seeker.

Derrick felt an icy sweat beading up on his forehead, but managed to produce the rough draft of a smile: Really, Marcus? Who is he? 

Draco Malfoy, a second-year guy. Zabini and Derrick almost fainted. 

Adrian Pucey, a Chaser, came near them: You should have seen him, Derrick! That boy is a real champion. 

I'm sure… replied Derrick, his smile now reduced to a frozen grin. Marcus, can we speak in private? 

Flint looked at him astonished: Yeah, of course…Warren, Adrian, Guthlac, you go ahead: I'll catch up with you later… While Zabini, the two Chasers and the other Beater went off, Derrick and Flint started walking in the opposite direction, going away from the castle. So, what did you want to tell me? asked Flint after a few seconds. 

It's about Malfoy… started Derrick nervously. I don't think it would be a good idea to have him in our team. 

Are you kidding? replied Flint. That boy is a champion. Of course, maybe he's not as good as the Gryffindors' Seeker, Harry Potter…but I'm sure he can improve a lot. 

It's not a matter of skills… Derrick cut him off. The  matter is that the boy brings a terrible bad luck. 

Flint half-closed his eyes and studied his teammate like he had never saw him before.Are you telling me he's a kind of saboteur? 

No, not at all…but that boy is a hoodoo, I can grant you. We went to the same primary school, do you remember St Gwilym Institute? Well, a short time after Malfoy came in, the Headmaster died…And at school there was all kind of troubles, there was even a fire…then he comes to Hogwarts, and, for the first time in seven years, the House Cup is stolen right under our nose and handed to those snotty Gryffindors…Trust me, Marcus. It's better if he doesn't play. Kick him out.

Nuts! Nobody can bring luck or bad luck…It's just Muggle superstition. 

But it's true! Derrick dug his heels in. You'll realize it if you insist on having him in our team! 

I don't wanna hear this crap, is that clear, Derrick? Malfoy will play and that's all. With these last words, Marcus Flint started to head back. 

You'll regret it, Marcus! Orson shouted after him. 

Marcus turned around to look at him: Make sure you'll keep your mouth shut about this…this kind of superstition, or else you'll regret it. Is it clear, Derrick? 

Perfectly growled darkly the Beater. While this dialogue was taking place, in his dormitory a seventh-heaven-delighted Draco Malfoy was writing his father and his mother to give them the good news. 

The dormitory door opened  and a girl slipped inside: Hey, Drac. said Victoria Cross approaching him. 

Hi, Torey replied the boy, barely lifting his gaze from the roll of parchment. 

I've heard you are the new Seeker… 

That's true. he replied dipping his pen in the ink. Victoria stated to look around distractedly. Come on, Torey, spit it out. 

Sorry? 

Something's bothering you…Come on, tell me. he ordered, turning his chair. 

Victoria sat down on the nearest bed, her eyes fixed on the floor. It's about a second-year guy, Blaise Zabini…And Slytherin Beater, Derrick. she raised her gaze. They have something against you. I heard them talking downstairs. 

Oh. commented Draco, lowering his eyes. 

Victoria looked at him closely: How come it doesn't surprise you? 

Let's say I suspected something…

I see…On the other hand, you've been here for a longer time than me… 

Just a year. 

It's always a longer time. They fell silent. After a few minutes, Victoria got back on her feet. I'd better be gone before someone catches me in the boys' dormitory. 

The ghost of a smile quirked Draco's lips up: Yeah, right…Hey, Torey? 

The girl, who had already reached  the threshold, turned round looking at him: Yeah? Thank you for warning me. 

Oh, you're welcome. The smile disappeared from her face, replace by a frown. Please, Drac…Be careful. And watch your back. 

I will he nodded. 

But not from what you're thinking… he added in a low voice as soon she walked through that door.         

Later the same week, Orson Derrick entered the Common Room and, after briefly glancing around, approached Marcus Flint, who was studying in a corner. Have you seen Adrian? he asked him. Flint closed his book. Yeah, he's helping Draco practice. 

Derrick was frozen. Are you telling me… he articulated with difficulty. That you've sent him out there with Malfoy? Marcus, are… 

No, I'm not crazy, unlike you. he cast him a stern glance. That boy needs to practice and I want him to do it with someone who's not afraid of flying near him. Marcus was referring to an episode happened during the first Quidditch practice. Derrick had received the task to keep the Bludgers away from Malfoy to let him breathe a little. However one of them had almost thrown the new Seeker off of his broom. Once they landed, Marcus had got angry at Derrick and had rightfully reproached him for allowing a Bludger to hit the Seeker and not flying close enough to him. Orson had insisted they were close enough, even if he knew perfectly well it wasn't true. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Flint. Those broomsticks Malfoy's father sent you have made you lose your brain! If something happens to Adrian, I'll… 

Today you can save your threats, Derrick. Here he comes he said, pointing to the passage that lead to their Common Room. Adrian Pucey, a fourth-year guy, came out of it with Draco. What was the practice like, Adrian? Flint asked. 

Wonderful! cried out the Chaser ruffling Draco's hair, who faked a disgusted face This guy know what he's about damned well! We have some good chances to beat Gryffindor. 

Good commented Flint smacking Draco on his back. In that moment, the eyes of the Seeker met the icy glare of Orson Derrick and his smile died on his lips.           

Draco's first match as Seeker ended with a resounding defeat for Slytherin. After being solemnly rebuked by Marcus Flint, the Seeker disappeared, but nobody bothered to notice it or to look for him. Well…not exactly. Adrian Pucey and Victoria Cross, each without the other's knowledge, went all over the castle for hours trying to find him. But first they found each other in a corridor of the second floor. They didn't need to talk, just a look was enough to understand. You're looking for him as well, aren't you? 

Yeah. You couldn't hear it from the stands, but Marcus was pretty harsh to him… 

He shook his head. I don't understand…Two years ago Terence Higg, the old Seeker, did a huger mistake during the match against Ravenclaw and he didn't take it so badly… 

Victoria shook her shoulders: I'll keep looking for him. She found him almost an hour later on edge of the lake. Hey Drac, she said, sitting down by his side. 

Hey Torey, he replied in his usual voice. 

Do you feel better? 

Now I do. They stayed silent for a while, then Draco rolled on his side to have a better look at her. Why did you come looking for me? 

What a dumb question, she replied looking at him astonished. Because you're my friend, aren't you? Inexplicably, those word brought tears to his eyes.               

When the attacks began, at first everybody suspected Harry Potter being Slytherin's Heir…except Blaise Zabini and Orson Derrick. Every time someone started talking about the attacks and the guilty, instinctively their eyes turned to Draco Malfoy, who always felt his pierced by those accusing glares. One night, coming back to the Common Room from a detention, Victoria found Draco sitting on a sofa, staring at the flames that danced into the fireplace. He had done his best to keep his face expressionless. However, the deep sadness he felt at that time shone clearly through his mask. The girl sat down next to him with caution and waited a few seconds before manifesting her presence. Hey she whispered very softly, barely audible. Is everything all right? Draco turned to look at her. Why aren't you in your dormitory? You shouldn't stay out so late seeing what's happening…  

I had a detention… she answered shrugging her shoulders then her voice changed. What's the matter, Draco? You're…acting strangely. 

What do you mean with "strangely"? 

Strangely in a way I don't like. 

The boy resumed his fire-watching duty for a while, than spoke again. Who do you suspect? I have no clue. she answered, lowering her gaze. 

You…you don't think I'm Slytherin's Heir, do you? 

Victoria looked up suddenly, because of the question and also because of the tone of voice which he had used to formulate it. What? Of course I don't! Why should I think such a thing? she burst out vigorously. 

Because I'm a heartless Muggle-hater bastard  whose family has been sorted into Slytherin for generations? 

First, you're not a heartless bastard. Second, I can't stand Hufflepuffs, but nobody did blame me when somebody knocked out that guy, what's his name…Justin Fletcher or something like that. You don't like Muggle-born very much. I can't say I agree but… What does it mean? Absolutely nothing. Who can believe such an idiocy? 

Guess who… murmured sadly Draco lowering his gaze. 

Zabini and Derrick. 

Exactly. Plus a bunch of other people.

Victoria moved in front of him and forced him to raise his gaze. I don't think you're the mad homicidal who's behind all this mess, Draco. 

And how can you be so sure? 

Well…you're not bad enough to be him. Whoever  thinks so doesn't know you not even a little bit. She rose and started to walk to the girls dorm when Draco's voice stopped her. 

I think you're the only person who believes I'm "not bad enough". 

Victoria turned around: Then I'm the only one who knows you. She blushed mildly. I have to go. Goodnight, Draco. 

Sleep tight, Torey he replied, half-smiling to her. That conversation helped Draco keep bearing Zabini and Derrick's dirty looks. When **_all_** finally came to an end…they still didn't stop glaring at him. Draco started to count down the days that separated him from his return home. He could bear two whole months at home with his father and his mother, but those dirty looks were more he could endure. It was a weight too heavy for him to bear by himself and he had nobody to share it. His only friends – his only **_real _**friends – were Adrian Pucey and Victoria "Torey" Cross and he wouldn't risk to lose them. They were all he had. Tiredly, he managed to survive until the day they all got on the train that would bring them back home.  After enjoying her company during all the train ride, he submitted to say goodbye to Victoria on platform 9 and ¾. 

See you next year at Hogwarts, she said euphorically, throwing her arms round his neck Don't think about those two… she murmured in his hear. 

I won't he assured her, trying to smile. 

And please, write me she asked for the millionth time at least. Normally, Draco would have lost his temper at the sixth…but not with Torey. 

I will. And you… 

Draco! A high-pitched feminine voice cut them off. A blonde woman walked toward them. I have to go Draco sighed reaching for his cart Have fun in Italy. 

I will. And don't forget to write me! Draco waved at her and set off.                         


	4. Third Year

THIRD YEAR

I see you're in high spirit today, commented Draco, sitting down in front of Victoria during the first school week. What happened? 

Absolutely nothing. 

Come on, Torey, don't try to fool me…So, who is he? 

Who is who? 

The boy you like. 

Victoria blushed. I…don't… 

Eh, eh, eh....What did I tell you? Come on, you know you can tell me. I won't tell a soul about it. 

All right…but promise you won't tease me. 

I swear on the cross. They both grinned at the involuntary joke So, who is he? 

Victoria's checks gained more or less the same color of Weasleys' hair. Martin Dooley. He's a third-year Ravenclaw. 

Draco knitted his brows and asked: Is he smarter than the others? 

I think so. Victoria murmured shaking her shoulders. 

Is he sitting at his table right now? he asked, leaning toward her conspiringly. 

Victoria nodded. Yeah. The blonde guy next to Cho Chang…No, don't turn around! she whispered hurriedly, noticing his move. 

Mmm… Draco mumbled. Pretending to stir himself, he cast a brief glance to the Ravenclaw table. To his eyes trained to seek the tiny, restless Snitch, half a second was enough  to spot his "target." The boy was at least 1, 70 meter tall, and his hair too dark to be labeled as blond and too light to be brown was cut short and dark eyes. 

He turned to Victoria. Great trick! she commented admiringly. 

Draco winked at her with half a smile on his face: I try… 

Nobody spoke for a couple of second. 

So? Victoria asked him. 

So what, Torey? 

What do you think about him? 

Draco made a face: It's hard to judge from a single glance…I just hope he's not like everyone else.

*******

Did you hear about Draco? asked Millicent Bulstrode, sitting down next to Pansy Parkinson. No, what happened to him? she asked back, dropping her fork. 

During Care of Magical Creatures he was attacked by an Hippogriff. 

Oh, poor thing! But…was he injured badly? Will he survive? The two girls weren't aware that other two people were listening to their conversation -- precisely, Blaise Zabini and Victoria Cross.

A few minutes later, Blaise approached Orson Derrick: Did  you hear about Malfoy? 

The other boy nodded: It seems that he almost got himself killed by an Hippogriff during the first lesson of Care of Magical Creatures. I don't know if I should be happy 'cause nobody else was hurt or disappointed 'cause he didn't kick the bucket. 

This time everything went just fine, but the next innocent person could be injured… We can't keep our mouths shut anymore, we have to talk about it with Professor Snape. 

Are you out of mind? Malfoy is his favorite pupil! 

He has been here for three years and every sort of trouble started to happen since his arrival…he can't possibly ignore us like  Marcus. Anyway, did you try to talk to him? 

Derrick shook his head: He doesn't want to listen. 

However… said Blaise, we're not the only one to think Malfoy a hoodoo: yesterday I heard Warrington saying so to Sewey. As you can see, we're not alone…       

Hours later, Victoria entered the boys dorm to visit "the poor invalid." Are you Draco or the pharaoh's mummy who lost its way home? she commented, looking her friend up and down while he fussed over four or five rolls of white bandages. 

Save your malicious remarks for Gryffindors, Torey. 

I have to practice, she said, trying to look like a poor-innocent-and-harmless-maiden. And failing miserably. 

You already do it too much. 

Oh, I don't think so…Speaking of maliciousness, what are you up to? 

Who? Me? 

I didn't ask for two pronouns. Drac, I know you…I'm ready to bet my last Chocolate Frog that you're plotting something. 

Draco didn't answer, concentrating on the bandage he was making. Do you know what I overheard on my way back form the Infirmary? Victoria shook her head. I heard Potter's little girlfriend telling a friend of hers she is "sure that horrible Draco Malfoy will give Hagrid a hard time." So here I am. 

With a bandaged arm. Victoria noted. 

Exactly. 

And…in the end, what's your plan? 

I have just told you, Torey. Draco looked away form her face The rule to be a Slytherin is "Don't do things they expect from you, but worse one." And I'm going to make Model-Student Potter and his friends pay for everything he and the others did to us Slytherins, interest included. Victoria's eyes went wide: Draco…don't you think you're exaggerating?

**_A la guerre comme a la guerre_**…And I hope you'll ignore my terrible French pronunciation. Victoria shook her head: As you wish…But don't think I'm going to back you up. 

It never crossed my mind. 

Good.

Draco's gaze became more serious: Believe me, Torey…I have my reasons. 

*******

Give me one good reason why we should do it! said Derrick while Zabini dragged him along the corridor. 

Just one? I'll find plenty of it! First, it is true. Second, we have proof. Third…you don't want it to happen again, do you? 

Of course I don't…If such a thing happened again, I think I'll never forgive myself… 

Then come on, let's go They stopped in front of a thick dark-woodened  door with a snake engraved on it and knocked.                               

*******

When they finished their speech, the room fell silent: Snape had listened attentively their "suspicions," his face expressionless. Finally, he decided to speak and the two Slytherins didn't like what he said at all.      

*******

I told you he wouldn't have listened to us! growled Derrick on their way back to the Common Room. "Bad luck doesn't exist," "just coincidence"…Nuts! 

At least we tried, murmured Blaise defeated. They can't say we didn't warn them if next time someone dies. 

*******

More than once, that year, Zabini and Derrick's dark previsions almost came true, but luckily nobody lost his life. Unfortunately came the day of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match: the last one of the scholar championship that would have decided the winner of the Quidditch Cup and almost automatically of the House Cup. As the match approached, Draco Malfoy became more and more nervous and on edge. An heavy burden laid on his shoulders and surely the looks Zabini and Derrick kept on casting him didn't help. He started to train incessantly every time the pitch was free and to spend less and less time into the Common Room. All he did was run from a class to a training session and vice versa. Victoria Cross practically had to force him to stop to eat and Adrian Pucey managed to find time to help him with his homework. 

The night before the match Draco couldn't sleep. 

You look horrible, Victoria told him sitting down next to him at the breakfast table. 

I feel like a violin string. Probably I'd play if someone were to brush me with a bow. 

Try to relax… she murmured, laying a hand on his shoulder. It's not the end of the world. Right in that moment, Draco met Blaise Zabini's glare. He understood perfectly the message he was sending him. In those eyes there was written with capital letters "make us lose the Cup again, bring us bad luck again, and I'm gonna kill you." Draco clutched the fork in his hand, not hearing Victoria's comforting words and staring at his plate without the strength to eat. His mind was fixed on one thing only -- catching the Snitch. Proving everyone that, no, he didn't bring bad luck. Bad to say so, again the match belonged to Gryffindor. As soon as it was over, Draco disappeared. Adrian and Victoria looked for him for hours until they met near the Common Room. Did you find him? asked the Chaser when he saw the girl. 

Victoria shook her head sadly: I don't think he wants to be found this time… 

I know what you mean…That boy gets too involved. Not even Wood of Gryffindor is so touched. He shook his head. It's like he has to prove someone something and I'm not that sure that Potter is all the matter. 

I'm not sure as well… Victoria murmured. I tried to discover what ails him, but there's no way…What are you going to do now? 

Adrian shook his shoulder: I think we should come back to the Common Room. When he wants to be found, we'll find him. 

Victoria nodded and, after saying the password, they entered the dungeon. A big group of Slytherins had gathered around the fireplace to discuss the nth defeat. 

…I can't believe we've lost the Cup for the third year in a row, Guthlac Bole, the second Beater, cried out. 

Looks like our Seeker can't beat the Gryffindor Golden Boy, noted Richard Sewey. Then again, we've always won before. 

Did you notice that we've started losing to Gryffindor since Malfoy has arrived? I don't wanna seem a superstitious boy, but…I think he brings bad luck. Derrick, you went to school with him, didn't you? What do you think? 

Derrick hesitated: I was a few years ahead, but even then there were rumors about him. I don't know if it's true or not, but…he attended St. Gwylim. 

Oh God, murmured Milena Tombstone, dropping a book. 

He did attend St. Gwylim? But…but then it is true! shrieked a sixth-year girl. 

Hey, what the hell are you talking about? Adrian came in. 

Well, Adrian… started Warrington. You have to admit that things haven't gone very well for we Slytherins since he arrived…and then, with all these defeats at Quidditch… 

He has never lost against Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, Adrian growled. 

But against Gryffindor we have always lost! And during his first match he missed the Snitch even when it was right under his nose! came in Sewey. 

So? During his fourth year Higgs took a piece of tin foil for the Snitch and we lost against Ravenclaw…yet nobody ever said he was a hoodoo!

But Adrian… 

Oh, shut up! interfered Flint That's all bullshit. Nobody brings luck or bad luck. Really, Flint? Tombstone asked coldly. But you have to admit that since his arrival… He wasn't the only student who was Sorted into Slytherin three years ago, remember? Marcus retorted. And yet nobody's accusing Nott or Parkinson or Bulstrode or Zabini… 

We haven't done anything! cried Millicent Bulstrode. 

Neither did Draco, noted Victoria Cross glaring at Derrick, Zabini, and everyone else. And I'm surprised that you, his elder Housemates, can believe such an absurdity! 

Exactly, Adrian backed her up. These are idiocies good for superstitious idiots. 

You can think what you want… Zabini muttered. But if I were you, I'd stay away from him! In that moment he realized many of them were staring at something or someone behind him. He turned and saw Draco Malfoy leaning against the Common Room doorframe, his face a blank mask. The room became deadly silent. Draco didn't say a word. He cast Zabini and Derrick a glance of pure hatred and then walked through the room without hurry, disappearing on the stairs that led to the boys dorm. Victoria Cross glared with disgust at her own Housemates and followed suit. She found him lying on his bed, hidden behind the closed curtains. Victoria sat by him wordlessly, closing again the curtains. What are you doing here? Draco asked in a dull voice. 

I wanted to know how you are. It wasn't a good day for you with the Quidditch match and those idiots down in the Common Room… She shook her head resignedly. What a pack of brainless fools! I wonder what are they doing here when they should be in Gryffindor with good-for-nothing Longbottom. 

You shouldn't be here, Torey, Draco whispered. 

Victoria, caught off guard, searched his face but couldn't see it because he had turned his back to her: What's the matter? It's because of what they said? Come on, you shouldn't take this to heart so much. She gave him a soft smack on his shoulder. Tomorrow they won't even remember what happened.

On the contrary, the following day they still remembered. The rumors had started to spread and the only reason why they didn't reach the ears of the students from the others Houses was simply because Slytherins were so ashamed to have a jinx among themselves that they avoided to talk about it outside the safe walls of their Common Room. Draco was treated as a leper. Almost everybody avoided him and even those who were unwilling to believe the rumors became quite nervous in his presence. Very few stood by him: Crabbe and Goyle (who were too stupid to understand exactly what was going on or too afraid of Lucius Malfoy's reaction), Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey and obviously Victoria Cross, who was his most ardent upholder. When Rogette Dull, from her same year, advised her to stay away from Draco if she didn't wanted to suffer by his bad luck, Victoria told her to go "wash herself," using **_slightly _**different words. 

Draco was very grateful to Torey, Adrian, and Marcus for their actions, but as much as they did their best, the situation was more and more unbearable…He started again counting down the days left to the summer holydays, that he had always despised. Then, when God allowed it, they finally came. At platform 9 ¾ he said goodbye for the last time to Marcus Flint, who had graduated that year, and said goodbye to Adrian Pucey even though they were going to see each other next year. He briefly dismissed Crabbe and Goyle. Probably he was going to see them during the summer. Victoria was the last one. By that time, almost every student had left, and yet she couldn't force herself to leave him. They didn't speak, there was no need of it. Victoria slipped her hand into his and held it tight, trying to reassure him. Her mother's arrival forced her to leave. They hugged each other one last time, holding themselves as tight as they could. When they broke apart, Draco read in her eyes all her worry and all the true and disinterested love she felt for him. Victoria went off toward the platform exit with her mother, but she couldn't stop turning back.                     


	5. Fourth Year

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!  

And now, the…

FOURTH YEAR 

Victoria ran to Draco as soon as she saw him coming through the barrier and threw her arms round his neck. Breaking apart from him, her features darkened. Are you okay? she asked him, looking at him closely. 

Draco threw her one of his half-smiles. Everything's all right, Torey. So, are you still lusting after that Ravenclaw? 

Victoria blushed deeply. I'm not lusting after him. 

Yeah, right…So it was just a case that last year you always sat down facing Ravenclaw table, wasn't it? 

Victoria smacked him on his arm. Shut up! 

Are you planning to do something or you'll be satisfied with adoring him from afar? The boy insisted trying to distract his friend from the previous subject. 

I don't adore him from afar! Her face aflame, Victoria tried to lift her trunk without succeeding because it was very heavy. 

Here, let me help you, said Draco, bending down to grab the other handle. While they walked toward the train, Draco kept distracting Victoria, teasing her of her "crush" and telling her of the World Quidditch Cup he had assisted in during the summer. Doing so, he managed to distract her, so she stopped staring at him and failed to notice that the other Slytherins avoided them while they walked. 

A few minutes after the ride started, Adrian Pucey joined them.

How come you're not with your seventh-year friends? Victoria asked naïvely. 

Oh…they're gossiping like old maids and I don't feel like listening to them. He cast a brief glance toward Draco and Victoria understood. 

They reached Hogwarts and, after the Sorting, dinner was served: Victoria, Draco, Adrian, Crabbe, and Goyle sat near the end of the table. 

Is everything all right? Victoria asked Draco leaning toward him. 

The boy simply nodded toward a group of people near the other end of the table. Ingrid Grimm, a second-year, was talking to the new first-year Slytherins, who looked quite scared. Two of them cast a frightened glance toward Draco and immediately looked away. She's telling them I'm a hoodoo, he remarked dryly. 

What a pack of idiots! Victoria growled between her clenched teeth. In that moment, Dumbledore rose from his chair to give them the last news and the whole Hall fell silent.

*******

Well, you should be happy that the Triwizard Tournament will be held here, Draco said to Victoria while they headed to the Common Room. 

Why? the girl asked him, casting him a puzzled glance.

 There's the Yule Ball linked with the Tournament…it could be a good chance to ask Marvin out. 

His name is Martin, she corrected him for the hundredth time. 

Whatever…So, what are you going to do? 

It's early… murmured Victoria, blushing I'll think about it.      

Next day, a girl in a Slytherin uniform proceeded prudently among the thickly-planted bushes on the lake banks, approaching a boy lying on his back. I warn you, Victoria. If I hear the word "ferret" once more I'm going to bust someone's face in and really I don't wanna start with yours. 

How can you think I came here to tease you? she replied wounded. 

Draco shook his head. Forgive me. I've had a bad day. And that… He pointed to the remains of a Howler. …didn't help. 

You father? Victoria asked, sitting down next to him and holding her legs to her chest. 

Draco nodded. Right. 

Victoria didn't replied, but, after a few minutes, she decided to break the silence. It wasn't for the "do-worse-things-then-what-they-expect-from-you," was it? she whispered softly. 

Exactly, he sighed. I thought I had better control over my emotions. 

What happened? 

Draco shrugged his shoulders: Nothing. 

Draco… she said in a slightly stern voice. Don't lie to me. 

Another sigh. Yesterday evening I had a "little argument" with Jackson Headsman. This morning, after Charms, Zabini and company made me a certain speech I prefer not reporting you. He glanced at her. You can imagine **_what_** they wanted to talk me about. The girl bit her bottom lip and nodded. Then I ran into Potter and his friends on the stairs and…well, you know what happened then. 

Victoria laid down next to him. Really a good way to start the new school year, Draco, she murmured in a sad, depressed voice. 

It's not the start that I'm worried about… the boy whispered. It's the rest. 

She squeezed his hand. Don't you worry, Drac. You'll make it, I'm sure. You're strong.

 I have to… the boy murmured squeezing back her hand …or I might fall apart, like today. 

Victoria held his hand tighter. You'll make it. I'm sure. 

Draco turned to look at her. You're the only one who has faith in me, Torey…you're my only and dearest friend. 

A shadow passed swiftly on Victoria's face and disappeared as much as swiftly, like it had never been there on the first place. Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly and she shook her head smiling to tell him nothing had happened. 

She rose on her feet, smoothing her uniform. I'm going back inside. Are you coming too? 

The boy shook his head without breaking eye-contact: No, I'm staying here for a while. 

As you wish, Victoria said, shrugging her shoulders and starting to head back. When she reached the passage among the bushes, she turned to him and he was still looking at her: Hey, Drac… 

Yeah? 

Whatever happens, whatever they say…I will always stand by you. While she spoke, a blush crept on her face. 

Draco was initially astonished, but after a few seconds replied, So will I, Torey. and matched his words with a smile -- the first, **_real_** smile Victoria had ever seen upon his lips since she had known him. She waved one last time and disappeared among the bushes, praying he hadn't noticed how red she had become.                                             

The first school day, however, was nothing compared to the hell Draco lived in for the following months. His housemates avoided him and never missed an occasion to throw in his face his supposed "evil eye." The previous year, Marcus Flint managed to hold them back  using the influence he had on both younger and older students thanks to his position as Captain of the Quidditch Team. Unfortunately, Flint had graduated and now remained just Adrian and Victoria, who certainly weren't enough. Outside the dungeon, the Slytherins pretended to listen to him but they did so just because they feared the students from the others Houses would discover their "shameful secret." Their House was already famous as den of Dark Wizards. If someone had found out there was a hoodoo among them, there would be no mercy on them. To get all this off his chest, Draco did his best to make his eternal rival's life an hell like his own was.              

Two days before the end of the term, during the break, Draco Malfoy saw Victoria Cross shyly approaching Martin Dooley from Ravenclaw and taking him aside. A few moments later, Martin Dooley went away with indignation clearly written on his face. Victoria stood still for some seconds, as if somebody had slapped her. Then she threw her head back, straightened her shoulders and marched through the yard holding her head high and with a queenly carriage. A couple of Ravenclaws who were Dooley's friends sniggered as she passed by, but she turned around and threw them such a look that their laughter transformed into something  resembling a low squeak. The two boys' faces became so red they looked like they were going to die from suffocation. Draco saw her slipping into one of the girls' bathrooms and followed her. Victoria was bent over the sink rinsing her face. Raising her head, she saw his reflection in the mirror. What are you doing here? she asked him, turning around If you get caught I'll be in deep trouble. 

I don't care, Draco replied firmly. Things can't get any worse. What happened with Dooley? 

Victoria looked away. He laughed and said he wouldn't come near a filthy Slytherin not even with a three-meters-long broomstick and he would never go to the Ball with one of us disgusting snakes. 

Draco clenched his fists: I'm going to kill that scum, he growled in a low, menacing voice, which was a very bad sign. 

Victoria laid a hand on his arm. Leave it, he's not worth the trouble. He's just like everyone else, she added, shrugging her shoulders. 

But you feel bad, Draco whispered. 

It'll be over soon. And I can grant you that discovering he was just another vain-as-a-peacock full of prejudices does help me a lot. She tried a small smile. I'm just sorry I'll miss the Ball. I'd have really liked to go. 

It's a real pity you cannot come, Torey. But…maybe somebody will ask you out… he sighed. If I wasn't already stuck with Pansy Parkinson, I'd ask you myself. 

You're just trying to console me, Victoria replied. I don't think you would trade Miss Fourth-year-beauty-queen for me. 

Are you kidding? cried Draco. **_She_** would be a beauty queen? In a dog contest maybe…Hey, you're ten thousand times prettier than her. 

Then why did nobody ask me? Victoria asked softly. 

Draco looked away. Slytherins… he said, deeply ashamed of himself. …don't ask you because you're my friend. And everybody else doesn't because you're a Slytherin and everyone knows that Slytherins are ugly, dirty and bad…Practically trolls. 

Well, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle do look like trolls, Victoria remarked, giggling. 

Exactly. 

The girl sighed. What a pity…I was really keen on going. 

Right in that moment, Draco had an idea. Hey, don't despair…maybe there's still a way, he told her, winking at her with an air of conspiracy. Victoria looked at him puzzled but he didn't say more. Instead he hugged her and whispered in her hear in Italian: "_Bimba, bimba non piangere per gracchiar di ranocchi. __Tutta la tua tribù e i bonzi tutti del Giappone non valgono il pianto di questi occhi cari e belli_" ["Child, child, don't you cry 'cause of toads croaking. Your whole tribe and all bonzes of Japan are not worth the crying of these dear, beautiful eyes"]  He swiftly kissed her cheek and then he was gone. More astonished, Victoria brought her hand to the cheek Draco had kissed, as she was trying to hold back the feeling of his lips on her skin. Apart form the kiss, she was surprised by the words Draco had whispered to her. They were a quote from "Madam Butterfly," an opera written by Puccini, an Italian Muggle composer. She knew them because her father was fond of opera, but Draco came from a Pureblood, totally anti-Muggle family so how could he know them? Victoria shook her head and, after collecting her textbooks, headed to Transfiguration class.         

*******

I'm sorry Draco, but I really can't chaperon Victoria Cross to the Yule Ball, said Adrian Pucey, folding his arms. 

Why not? She's a girl, she's prettier than your average Slytherin…What's the matter? 

The matters, my dear, are two. First, she's thirteen and I'm seventeen; second, I'm going with Patricia Ash, my girlfriend…So forget it!  

You just have to let her in. Once she's inside, they can't kick her out. Adrian, Torey **_needs_** to go to the Ball! 

She fancied a Ravenclaw, didn't she? Why doesn't she ask him? 

Draco's eye lit up with anger. She did. 

And…? asked Adrian, raising his eyebrows. 

He told her he'd never go with a disgusting Slytherin. Maybe these weren't the exact words, but I think you get the meaning. 

Bloody bastard, Adrian muttered. 

Do you understand now why I'm asking you? She was really keen on going with him…and he has insulted her and laughed in her face! Come on, Adrian…you don't have to dance with her. Please. 

Adrian scratched his head and sighed, Okay. I'll explain to Pat why I can't escort her to the Ball. But if she gets angry I'll tell her it's all your fault! 

Draco smiled. Thank you, Adrian. You're a great friend. 

You're welcome.                 

*******

Draco entered the Great Hall escorting Pansy Parkinson, who was all wrapped up in a huge pink dress. They went to sit at a secluded table and after a few minutes Crabbe and Goyle joined them, followed by Millicent Bulstrode and her partner, a fifth-year guy. Draco ignored completely their chatting and watched closely the other entering students. Finally out came Adrian Pucey escorting Victoria Cross, followed suit by Patricia Ash. Draco had to admit they were quite a strange couple. First of all, Adrian was at least forty cm taller than his damsel. Then he wore a light blue suit while she had chosen a plain, light lilac dress that was becoming to her eyes and her complexion, but clashed with her escort's. The couple, escorted by Patricia Ash, naturally went to sit at their table. Victoria sat between Draco and Adrian, while Patricia took a seat on her fiancé's right. Thank God she didn't look very angry. 

During the meal, Draco couldn't help but comparing the two girls who sat by him. Victoria's lilac dress was a poor thing compared to Pansy's "ancient pink" one, where the fabric was barely visible, suffocated under layers and layers of lace, frills and fringe. Draco didn't know anything about fashion, but it was clear that whoever made that dress had fabric to waste. Their hairdo was very different too. Pansy had gathered up her hair in a complicated hairstyle, Victoria had let it loose on her shoulders, except for two small braids on the front that were pinned on her head like a bow. When the Weirdo Sisters started to play, Draco was forced to dance with Pansy Parkinson, who was as graceful as an elephant and her enormous dress didn't help her. 

After some dances with Feet-Killer Parkinson, finally he managed to get rid of her and passed her to an unlucky student from Drumstrang. He was about to come back to his table when Goyle came to tell him that Rita Skeeter wanted to speak with him. Sighing, Draco followed him. He told Rita Skeeter a certain amount of things-made-up-on-the-spot just to get rid of her as soon as he could. When he came back into the Great Hall, he looked round for Victoria. She was still sat at the table, watching with great longing the couples who elegantly glided on the dance floor. Draco slowly approached her from behind and then cleared his throat with a small cough. Victoria turned to look at him and smiled. _Posso avere l'onore di questo ballo, signorina_? [May I have the honor of this dance, miss?] he asked her in Italian, bowing slightly. 

Victoria's smile became, if it was possible, even brighter. _Con piacere_ [With pleasure]. 

Draco gave her his arm and guided her to the dance floor. He put an arm around her waist and held her hand in his, gliding to the beat. Victoria was on cloud nine and Draco had never been happier in his whole life as well. He stayed there and danced; nothing else mattered, just Victoria, his partner. No rumors on his bad luck, no Harry Potter, no Voldemort, no Lucius, just the music and Victoria. Nothing else. After the first, they danced another song, then another and another one. At the sixth dance, when the Weirdo Sisters started to play a wilder piece, they decided to have some fresh air outside, in the garden. It's wonderful, isn't it? Victoria murmured leaning on his arm. 

Draco smiled at her. You are wonderful. That Dooley-idiot did miss a lot. 

Victoria laughed and then was silent for a while as they strolled among the roses. Thank you for asking Adrian to escort me, she said, stopping suddenly and turning to look at him in the eyes. I wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn't for you. 

Well, you deserve it…and then you were so keen on coming… He swallowed hard. 

You've done so much for me. 

No, I haven't done anything. 

Yes, you have, Draco replied firmly without looking away from her eyes. The fairies shone from the rose bushes around them. The music was still in the air. 

Come, let's sit down here, he said, guiding her to a bench on the lake banks and keeping on watching her. 

Victoria sat down and shivered. Are you cold? Do you wanna come back inside? Draco asked, worried. 

A little, but don't you worry. I can survive. 

Take this, at least, he said, taking off his jacket and putting it on her shoulders. Better? The girl nodded. It's not so cold in Italy, I guess.

No, it isn't…By the way, you didn't tell me you speak Italian. You're good. 

Thanks…And to think I've never been in Italy.

Victoria's eye widened. Really? Trust me, you do miss a lot of things. 

I'd like to go there, Draco sighed But, according to my father, it's a country chaotic, dirty, and full of good-for-nothing. He and my mother think the three best countries in the whole world are, in order, England, Germany, and France. He shook his head with half a smile upon his lips. My mother would be the happiest woman in the world if I learned to speak French perfectly…Unfortunately I can't manage it. I have no attitude for that language. 

Your Italian is pretty good, Victoria reminded him. 

Again that half-smile: Many thanks. I guess I took after my grandfather. He adored Italy, the opera and Greek and Latin cultures as well. I haven't been named after him for nothing. 

He was called Draco too? Victoria asked, curiously. Draco had never talked so much about himself and his family. Usually, he just talked about the things his father had said or done. 

No, his name was Flavius, that is my middle name. The girl giggled. 

What's so funny? 

Your name…in Latin it means… 

"Blond-haired dragon." I know. 

Victoria's eyebrows rose: You study Latin too? Draco, you're a real wonder. 

I study ancient Greek as well, by the way. 

Really? I do too! Oh, I can't believe it, this is great! 

At first, grandpa Flavius taught me just Latin and ancient Greek, but from Latin to Italian the step was very short. He looked away. Unfortunately, he died two years ago and I've had to study by myself since then. I keep revising the lessons, studying on his grammar texts, and reading his books, but it's not the same without him. 

You should've told me! Victoria cried out, almost offended I could have helped you. Draco stared at the grass at his feet. Well… Everyone studies French or German or any other modern language except Italian. I thought you would laugh at me if I had told you I'm trying to learn two dead languages. 

What a foolery! Victoria snorted. They don't understand anything. 

A sudden chill made her shiver and Draco put an arm around her shoulders, holding her to him and making her lean her head on his shoulder. 

I'd be very grateful if you helped me with my Latin and my Italian, Torey, he whispered in her ear. 

The girl felt herself blushing. Don't forget Greek, she smiled. 

Right… Draco whispered again I mustn't forget my Greek… his voice sounded almost far away, while he toyed with Victoria's hair. 

The girl rose suddenly. I think we should come back inside, she murmured, grateful to the darkness because it hid her flushed cheeks. Draco nodded and got to his feet, giving her his arm. They came back in hallway. The ball was almost over, the Weirdo Sisters had started to play their last songs. Victoria moved as to walk away from Draco but he kept her kindly, not letting go of her arm. Wait…Can we dance one last time? Victoria wanted to refuse, but in his eyes shone a bright spark that made her hesitate. _Ti prego_, Victoria, [Please, Victoria] he whispered with an expression she had never seen before on his face. 

Victoria nodded: _Sì._ [Yes] Draco smiled at her and together they entered the Great Hall. As soon as they reached the dance floor, the world stopped existing. That was the only time of the year which he had fun.              

*******

On the day of the last trial of the Triwizard Tournament, Draco was very worried. It wasn't for the exams, no, he was sure he had passed. Since the rumors of his bad luck had started spreading, he had devoted himself to a mad, desperate study, building around himself a barricade of books. Adrian at first used to call him "Granger-boy," until Victoria, who understood perfectly the true nature of all that studying, had told him the reason. 

When rumors of Cedric Diggory's death started to spread, Draco understood he was right. That night he didn't come back into the Common Room. Victoria and Adrian looked for him for hours, but they couldn't find him. He had deserted even his usual refuge on the lake banks, which worried Victoria a lot. Where the hell are you, Draco? she whispered in a tears-stained, cracked with worry voice when she came through the bushes into that little, empty clearing. If he wasn't there, it meant the situation was very serious: troubles were in the air. Draco didn't come the next day neither and Victoria and Adrian had to do their best to keep his defection secret from the teachers. Finally, that evening, Draco reappeared. His clothes were messy and he looked shattered. His own Housemates' icy looks welcomed him in the Common Room. 

You're looking at me like it was my fault, he murmured, speaking to everybody and no one at the same time. It wasn't me… 

Really? said Derrick, looking at him sternly. Well, I don't think so. Remember, I was there six year ago, at St. Gwylim's. Now there are two, Malfoy…How many will have to die? How many can you have on your conscience? While he spoke, he kept on  raising his voice and the last words were shouted from his mouth. How many will you kill, Malfoy? he shouted, gabbing his arm and shaking him roughly. 

Draco didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

Derrick step back suddenly, as he feared Draco could burn him…or **_worse_**. In a deadly silence, Draco climbed the dorm stairs. As he closed the door, his brain registered that into the Common Room a furious fight had broke out. He couldn't make out the words, but he could hear the sound of furious, clashing voices. He fell heavily on his bed, the far roaring that came through the closed door was faint but it was still there, like a kind of evil presence. As tears stung his eyes, he mentally noted that he should came back down and tell Adrian and Torey to stop it, that it wasn't worth…But he had not the strength to do so. Slowly, he fell in a restless sleep, the far, angry shouts still echoing in his ears.       

The last evening of the term, Dumbledore told it. He told how Cedric Diggory had been killed by Voldemort and remembered him lovingly. Then he spoke of the current situation, of the Dark Lord's return and hinted at the part played by Harry Potter in the loss of their schoolmate…Draco heard less then half of those words, lost in memories of another time. A time he had thought, or maybe hoped, was over…Instead, everything had started again. Derrick's words echoed in his mind and not only his…Other sentences, other words, other scornful voices full of accusations more or less hidden had reemerged from his subconscious. During the last week, he had spent all his time repeating to himself that it wasn't true, he wasn't a jinx, it couldn't **_really _**be his fault for those two deaths…But if it was? He had started to doubt. What if it was really his fault? Part of his head noted that the feast was over. He rose and followed the others toward the dungeons, the world around him little more than an unclear shadow in the fog. Without seeing her, he felt Victoria's presence by his side. He kept staring straight ahead not really seeing anything, thinking about Cedric Diggory. He was a good boy, kind with everyone, even with the Slytherins (well, more or less). Draco shook his head. It wasn't fair.                   

If it was possible, the next day was harder than the whole school year. You couldn't find a Slytherin who didn't say to him some nasty remark. Draco acted like he was deaf, like those words where drop of rain that fell from him without leaving a lasting mark, but instead were glass splinters that cut his skin until he bled. He never knew what drove him to Potter, Weasley, and Granger's compartment to bother them. He never knew where those words about Diggory came from. It was Victoria who found him lying on the floor in front of the compartment with Crabbe and Goyle. It was Victoria who ran to fetch Adrian because he helped them without telling a soul. The last thing Draco needed was that the others knew what had happened. They could think that his bad luck had affected the wands or worse. Just like the previous year, he and Victoria were the last ones left on platform 9 and ¾. Just like the previous year, Victoria couldn't leave his side. Are you sure you'll be all right? she asked him for the nth time and for the nth time Draco simply nodded. 

Draco… Victoria whispered. Draco, please, look at me. 

Unwillingly, he raised his eyes from the floor. Victoria was a few cm shorter than he, and yet it was hard for him to look at her in the eyes. 

Draco… There was no need of any other word. Their eyes spoke for them.  

Torey… whispered the boy, lowering his gaze again. …don't say anything. I know.  

A feminine voice called Victoria's name, inciting her to hurry up. The girl stood still where she was. 

Your mother's calling you, he told her. 

It doesn't matter. Silence. Another calling. Promise me you'll be alright, Draco…promise me you'll take care of yourself. 

The boy sighed. The first one is a promise I can't keep…About the second one, I'll do my best. 

Are you sure you can't come to stay with us this summer? It seemed a simple question, but really Victoria was begging him with her eyes and her voice. 

He shook his head. I'm sure. My father will surely have other plans about me. His voice was dull and lifeless. 

Victoria's eye filled with tears. Oh, Draco… 

He stopped her: Don't say anything. You should go, now 

Victoria nodded and hugged him as tight as she could, as she never wanted to let go. Her mother called her for the third time and she had to let him go. Draco went to sit down on a bench, waiting for his mother who was late as usual. Just like the previous year , Victoria kept turning back. Going through the barrier, she still managed to cast him one last glance over her shoulder, before he disappeared from her sight.           


	6. Fifth Year

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! 

To Dragonslayer18 and Adria: don't you worry, my  motto is "Lack of reviews won't stop me from writing, nor abundance of flames will." I plan to finish this story before next Saturday and then there will be a little sequel.       

To everyone else: thank you again! 

WARNING! This chapter doesn't follow the fifth book. When I first wrote this story, it was far from published so I had to made up the fifth year. 

FIFTH YEAR

Draco sat by himself in a compartment near the end of the train, his forehead leaned against the window. The door opened slowly and Victoria came in. Here you are. I've been looking for you everywhere, why didn't you wait for me?  

Sorry.

Oh, it doesn't matter. Aren't you going to hug an old friend? she asked, holding out her arms. Draco forced one of his half-smiles and got to his feet to embrace her. Victoria frowned slightly. You're thinner than last year…  

Draco shrugged his shoulders.   

Come on, what happened? she asked as they sat down.

Nothing, really.  

Victoria looked at him disbelievingly but didn't speak.  

Have you had a good summer? asked Draco after a couple of seconds of silence. Victoria started telling him about her holidays in Sicily and, after a long time, she was interrupted by the food trolley. 

Do you want something, dears? 

The girl gladly helped herself, but Draco politely refused. Victoria started worrying. When darkness had already fallen, the train entered the little station. Crabbe and Goyle, who had joined them before the arrival, went ahead as Draco had suggested. He and Victoria got the same coach. No one else traveled with them. Behind a bend, appeared the castle. Here we are, Victoria muttered. In Hogwarts again.       

Yeah remarked darkly her fellow-traveler.  

The girl held his hands. I know how you feel… she whispered sadly. Draco squeezed her hand and helped her getting off the coach. They stood side by side for a while, watching the castle that stood out against the dark sky with its lit windows. A sudden chill made Victoria shiver and Draco put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close. 

You're right, Torey… he whispered without averting his eyes from the building. I'm not happy to be back here, but… he turned to her, hugging her, …but, on the other hand, I'm glad to be with you again.        

Victoria smiled, embarrassed. Be careful, Mister Malfoy…this is dangerously close to a declaration! She laughed, but her laughter died in her throat when Draco brushed his lips against her forehead. Victoria blushed and freed herself from his embrace. Hey, do you know what I was thinking? Draco shook his head We could go together to Hogsmeade, this year, do you agree? 

Of course, Draco nodded delighted. Consider yourself engaged. 

A teacher called them and Draco started heading toward the castle. Victoria stood still and watched him go away. I'd like to be engaged with you in another way, Draco, she whispered as she stared at him, almost mesmerized.

Draco turned around and incited her to hurry up: Come on, Torey! I don't wanna be late.       

Coming! she shouted, running to catch up with him. 

From the previous year, nothing had changed for Draco. The Slytherins stayed away from him and never missed a chance to fling in his teeth his sin. Victoria heard mentioning "St Gwilym's" many times but she never understood what they were talking about exactly. One day near the end of September, strolling with Draco along the lake banks, she gathered up all her courage and asked him. Hearing her question, Draco frowned and remained silent for some seconds. It was my primary school, he answered dryly before changing subject. 

Victoria decided she had to discover it on her own. She went to the library and asked the archivist the collections of the Daily Prophet printed seven years before. After almost an hour and half, she found what she was looking for. Seven years ago on 12th April, in St. Gwilym Magic Elementary School – an exclusive private institute – a terrible fire had broke out. Lucinda Maltock, a six-year-old girl, had lost her life. 

"But what has it got to do with Draco?" she wondered "Okay, he did attend that school at that time, so? He was just eight, damn it! They couldn't blame him…could they?" She got to her feet and ran out of the library, decided to find her friend. 

She found him in the boys' dorm, doing his homework half-laying on his bed. She sat wordlessly by him. 

What's the matter, Torey? the boy asked her, casting her a brief glance over the History of Magic essay he was writing. Something's bothering you. Not even the slightest sign of interrogation.

I know what happened seven years ago at St. Gwilym's, the girl said all in one go, staring at the carpet that covered the floor.                     

Ah. Draco put down his quill. 

The room fell silent, then Victoria raised her eyes: Tell me what I think happened didn't happen…Tell me they didn't blame you, she whispered as tears filled her eyes. 

Draco didn't say a word.  

So it's true…they did. 

Draco sighed. Rumors about my bad luck had been following me since my very first school year…I don't know how they started…which one of my actions or my words was the starting-signal. But it happened. He lowered his gaze. I know I should have got used to that by now, but believe me, Torey…it's not an easy burden to bear. he swallowed hard Torey, now…if you never wanted to see me or talk to me again, well, I…I'd understand perfectly. His voice sounded low and defeated.      

Forget it! Victoria replied whole-heartedly. I'd never do such a thing! I don't believe in this curse, she rose proudly. Whoever believes this crap is nothing but a poor idiot.   

A lot of people don't think so. 

Victoria, who had almost reached the door, turned back. The hell with them. It wasn't your fault, nor for Lucinda Matlock nor for Cedric Diggory. With these words, she left.

I wish I could believe it, Torey, whispered Draco when the door closed.  

Even if Victoria didn't believe "that crap," but, since Cedric Diggory's death many other Slytherins, who at first were caught in the middle between believing and not believing, had thought it was true.  

By now, everyone avoided Draco more than ever. Because students were becoming nervous  around him and tended to drop things or cause troubles, his reputation as hoodoo grew stronger. First-years could be frightened barely by pronouncing his name. As if it wasn't enough, the year before, Adrian Pucey had graduated and left. This left only Victoria to stand by Draco. Her support was worth more than all the gold kept in Gringott to him, but, objectively speaking, it wasn't really much. However, just thanks to her,  Draco could bear all those pressures and the thought of the trip they'd do with her to Hogsmeade gave him the strength to survive until 31st October.   

After an hour spent shopping, Victoria and Draco surrendered to the impossibility to avoid the other Slytherins, so they left the town center and headed the village suburbs. In a few minutes, they were strolling on the lawns. It seemed another world. The two teenagers spent almost all the afternoon wandering around until they reached a hill. They could see the roofs of Hogsmaede below and the sun shone upon their heads.    

Do you think that those big dots running everywhere are our schoolmates? asked Victoria. Draco nodded. 

I'm sure it's not a kind thing to say, but… said the girl, …but they look like ants.  

Draco nodded again. 

Tired from the long walk, they laid down on the grass. Draco used Victoria's bag as a pillow and Victoria laid her head on Draco's shoulder. They stayed in the silence of the afternoon, broken here and there by a flapping of wings or a balm-cricket's chirping, for a long time before coming back to the "civil" world. They took a different route to come back and found themselves on a bridge. Let's stop for a while, said Victoria. I like this place and there's still time left. Draco agreed. They sat down on the parapet of the bridge and talked about the books they have read and liked until it was time to go.          

This… said Draco as the coach carried them back to the castle. …was surely one of the best trips to Hogsmaede I've ever done. 

Maybe Draco's life was governed by a sinister compensation law that said that every second of joy had to be paid with days of sorrow. A week after the trip to Hogsmaede the whole school knew that Draco Malfoy was a jinx. The rumors spread very fast, like fire in a barn, and soon many students believed that theory. Victoria, in spite of her researches, never discovered who had spread the superstition far and wide and Draco never tried to find out.     

It was raining when Victoria went to talk to him. From Draco's room – once known as "Fifth year boys' dorm" – came a faint music she couldn't identify. Instead of opening the door and slipping inside as usual, the girl hung outside the door for a long time until she decide to knock.  

Come in. came a calm, dull voice from the inside.  

The girl entered. Draco laid on his bed reading a book, on his nightstand a Playing Top (the wizardry version of a cassette-player) diffused in the air the notes of a piece of opera she didn't recognize. 

"_Lascia ch'io pianga _

_mia cruda sorte     _

_e che sospiri _

_la libertà_"     

[Let me cry/my harsh fate/and let me wish/for liberty] sang a woman, a soprano according to her voice. What's that? she asked, nodding toward the Playing Top. 

Draco raised his eyes from the book, Oh, Torey. He threw her one of his half-smiles I thought it was…somebody else, he added, shifting his position and closing his book. 

From which opera is this aria taken? I don't think I know it. 

It's "_Lascia ch'io pianga_" from Handel's "_Rinaldo._" 

It's not a cheerful aria, she noted, watching him with her violet eyes. 

Maybe not, he replied, shrugging his shoulders But it expresses exactly how I feel inside. 

Victoria lowered her gaze. I really don't know how it could happen, Draco…  

Hey… the boy said, holding her in his arms. Don't you worry, little one. You know, when you reach the bottom, then you start digging. 

Oh, Draco… she murmured in a broken voice before bursting into tears.  

Sssh, don't cry…Come on, Torey, don't, everything's all right…it's okay, Torey, it's okay… Victoria kept on crying, unable to stop. She held to Draco as tight as she could, like he could suddenly disappear. Draco held her in his arms until she started to calm down. He kissed her brow, then her cheeks, wiping away her tears with his lips.

Listen, Torey… he whispered, then …you have to promise me you'll never cry for me again, understand? Never again. He gently forced her to raise her head and meet his gaze. It's not worth the trouble and then… He leaned toward her until their brows touched …your eyes are too beautiful to be ruined by tears. Their lips barely touched, then Draco stepped back. I have to go to the library to look for some books, he explained, walking to the door. As soon as he reached for the handle, he stopped. It won't happen again…It mustn't happen again, he said solemnly. You understand it, don't you? The only thing Victoria understood was that he was referring to their brief kiss, but she couldn't understand the reason why it could never happen again…However she said she did and Draco left, leaving her alone in the room. The Playing Top started a new aria. She did know that one, it was from Puccini's "Gianni Schicchi".             

"_Oh mio babbino caro_

_mi piace, è bello bello_

_vo' andare in Porta Rossa_

_a comperar l'anello._

_Sì, sì, ci voglio andare_

_e se l'amassi indarno _

_andrei sul Ponte Vecchio_

_ma per buttarmi in Arno._

_Mi struggo e mi tormento _

_Oh, Dio, vorrei morir…_"

[Oh my dear daddy/I like him, he's really handsome/I want to go to Porta Rossa/to buy the ring./Yes, yes, I want to go/and if I loved him uselessly/I'd go on Ponte Vecchio/but to throw myself in the river Arno./ I long for him and I torment myself/Oh, God, I wish to die…] 

The song went on but she stopped listening to it. Instead, she sat on the bed and looked curiously at the book Draco was reading when she had come to talk to him. It was "Spoon River's Anthology."                

When Draco came back from the library, he found Victoria caught up in his book. 

Do you like it? he asked, sitting down beside her. 

The girl lifted her eyes from the page. Yeah, a lot. But I had never thought that I would have caught you reading a Muggle book!

Draco laughed softly. So you fell for it too! Edgar Lee Masters was a wizard.

Really? asked the girl as her eyes got wide.    

Sure. They said he could talk with spirits of the past. His "Anthology" is the collection in poetry of those conversations.

Amazing, Victoria commented. But there's something you have to tell me. 

Shoot. 

What are you going to do now that the "bad luck fever" has infected the whole school? 

Well…I never really got along with the other students. I don't care what they say or do. 

But they can hurt you… insisted Victoria. 

Don't you worry, Torey… replied Draco I can bear it.

Better than you bore your "Hippogriff injury" in third year, I hope, Victoria remarked, teasing him.  

Draco's usually pale cheeks tinged with pink. Will you remind me of that forever?

Probably, said the girl half-jokingly. Now I have to go. I haven't finished my Transfiguration homework and McGonagall will skin me alive if they aren't delivered tomorrow, she said, raising from the bed and walking to the door.  

Hey, Torey.

She turned to look at him. Yeah?

Thank you for existing. I don't know how much you mean to me. You're my best friend.

A sad smile appeared on her lips. I know, she said slowly, I know. 

She turned and left. She had understood perfectly what Draco meant. She went down into the Common Room and tried to concentrate on her homework, but it was useless. Unlike her friend, she couldn't take it so well…if Draco's quiet desperation was "take it well!" And there was another thing that troubled her. Inexplicably, she had suddenly remembered the last verses of the aria "_La calunnia è un venticello_" from Rossini's "_Il barbiere di Siviglia_". They said:                   

_"e il meschino calunniato_

_avvilito, calpestato, _

_per gran sorte ha da crepar,_

_ha da crepar, ha da crepar_"  

[and the poor maligned/downhearted, downtrodden/ 'cause of his fate he's going to die/he's going to die, he's going to die]     

If the previous years had been hard for Draco, surely the fifth one broke every record. Now the damage was done and Slytherins were no more forced to pretend to save the appearances. Draco was left alone. In class and at lunch, students always sat far away from him and many preferred taking another road when they saw him in a passage. These rumors about "the perfect Slytherin" had been like winning ten millions of Galleons at the lottery for Ron Weasley. Finally, he could revenge himself for the insults he had suffered during four school years. He never failed to remind Draco of his evil eye, and many other Gryffindors followed his lead. Curiously, the only ones who never spoke of this were Hermione Granger and Harry Potter; one, because she didn't believe that slander, the other because he remembered only too well how it had been during his second and fourth year. In his opinion, not even Draco Malfoy deserved such a thing. 

Unfortunately, he was the only one in the whole school to think so. Too scared or too busy throwing his own curse in his teeth, none of the students ever realized what was happening to him, the protagonist/victim of that situation. Under the continuous attacks, Draco had changed. Instead of trying to attract attention like he once did, he did his best to hide, to camouflage, to disappear in the background. He had always had trouble to keep his mouth shut, and, now, in a day he said roughly ten words, of which eight had only one syllable. He still spoke with Victoria Cross, but he didn't talk to her like used to once. Victoria was really worried. Draco had isolated himself from the world, going back into his shell to be left alone. Around her, he acted as everything was fine, like he wasn't touched at all by all those malignant remarks. But Victoria knew it wasn't so, she felt it. Draco clenched his teeth and carried on, pretending to ignore all the little accidents that happened every time he entered a room or walked by in a corridor. Nothing serious, obviously, but glasses and bottles were broken so frequently when he was in the Great Hall that he started skipping lunch. When Victoria asked him why, he told her it was the only way to preserve Hogwarts' glass-ware.  

That's totally absurd, she had commented. Can't they understand that those accidents happen because of their nervousness?  

And why are they nervous? Because I'm sitting at our table, he shook his head. It's a closed circle, Torey. And there's no way to break it. 

The way he said it made her shiver, but soon she had another reason to be worried. During her first year, when she had discovered that Blaise Zabini and Orson Derrick had something against Draco, she had got into the habit of  watching their Quidditch practice to be sure they didn't try anything. The previous year, when she had realized she missed getting up early in the morning or sitting on the stand late at night, she had finally understood she didn't like watching the practice…she liked watching Draco. During the previous years, Draco had stayed on the team thanks to Marcus. Many students thought they'd kick him out now, but the new Captain, the beater Guthlac Bole, didn't feel up to set himself against Lucius Malfoy. During those Quidditch practices, everybody stayed far away from the Seeker, who had become an easy target for Bludgers, seeing that neither Bole nor especially Derrick intended to fly near him. Victoria had to take him to the Hospital Wing at least one thousand times, so his scratches, cuts, bruises and broken bones could be healed. Draco acted as usual: he clenched his teeth and carried on. But Victoria noticed that his way of flying was not the same it used to be once. Usually Draco flew above the pitch like an hawk ready to catch his prey, without any spectacular action, diving just when he was sure. Now it had changed. In his hunting for the Snitch, he did every kind of maneuvers, especially the most risky ones, concentrating only on the golden ball at the point of not seeing anything else, which was very dangerous because he could be hit by a Bludger or hit something or someone during his flight. As the practices went on, Victoria thought that if Draco kept on flying like, sooner or later she'd have had an heart attack. During the matches, then, it was even worse. He – who had always paid attention to every possible scheme and every alteration of the course and had always been so accurate calculating every detail – had become the most reckless, terrible and irresponsible player Hogwarts had ever had. Some said he did so just to attract attention. 

He has always been like this, hasn't he? commented Ron Weasley in a corridor one day, gaining a dirty look from Victoria Cross, who was passing by right in that moment.       

No, it was no more the same as it once was…it was different. Draco had changed and, after a long time, she knew she wasn't the only one who had noticed. One morning at the end of April, Professor Snape made his entrance in Slytherin Common Room. The last time Victoria had seen him there, she was a first year and Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater laid petrified in the Hospital Wing. Snape assembled the whole House except for Draco. It was clear that he wanted to talk about him. He looked at them one by one with an icy gaze. Could one of you be so kind to explain to me what are these rumors about Mr. Malfoy I've heard beginning a few months ago? 

At first nobody answered, then Blaise Zabini gathered up all his courage and spoke up. You shouldn't be asking us, professor…Me and Derrick have already explained everything to you…exactly two years ago.      

If it was possible, Snape's face became even more stern. Looks like I didn't make myself clear enough back then…May I know what makes you think that he **_really _**brings bad luck?

But professor, it's **_obvious,_** squealed a second-year girl. 

He went to St. Gwylim's. The school burned seven years ago, said Derrick.  

We haven't won the House Cup for **_ages_**! And we won the Quidditch Cup when he wasn't on the team! roared a sixth-year guy. 

Send him away, professor, he's a public enemy!

I don't wanna fly with him. 

Other voices rose against Draco. 

Victoria sat in a corner, shaking from head to toe, her eyes full of anger. 

Finally, the teacher managed to establish again the tranquility. Listen to me, children… he said patiently, …you know as well as I do that this is one of the must difficult Houses to be in because of…let's call them "external causes." There's no student in this school that doesn't perceive us as Dark Wizards or Dark Witches. Being a Slytherin is hard, very hard…But you hold your House as dear as the others hold theirs nonetheless. It's true we have had a good period that lasted seven years, but obviously it couldn't last forever. And when it was over, you felt the need to find someone to blame. But it's not right. He sighed. Nothing lasts forever except change. Nobody can control fate and luck, not even us wizards. You ought to understand that things can change, or else you'll need to find a guilty for every bad thing that happens, just like Muggles in the Middle Ages hunted wizards and witches and only managed to kill innocents of their own kind. He got to his feet. I communicate you that I have no intention to send Mr. Malfoy away. 

But… Derrick tried. 

No buts. Even if I did so, it probably wouldn't change anything. And then what would you do? You'd find someone else to blame, wouldn't you? Who will be burned on the stake next time things will be wrong? He looked at them sternly again No, children. You cant' go on like this. Think about it. With these last words he left the room that, after a few moments, became full of voices. Unfortunately, nobody wanted to believe those words.            

It's absurd! 

Malfoy is his favorite student. Did you really think he'd kick him out? 

…That bloody jinx will kill us all, you'll see!

..brings bad luck…

…stay away from him.

…kick him off of the Quidditch team. 

I won't sleep in the same room!

At that moment, Victoria lost her temper.

SHUT UP! she shouted at the top of lungs, jumping on her feet. 

Everybody fell silent. 

Will you ever stop it with this bullshit? Draco is not a jinx, damn it! It's just superstition!

What about Cedric Diggory, then? shrieked a third-year girl. 

 If you weren't an idiot, Ratbone, you'd know that through the ages hundreds, maybe thousands of participants of the Triwizards Tournament had died! Diggory – God rest his soul – wasn't the first and certainly won't be the last!   

What about Lucinda Matlock, the girl who died in St. Gwylim's fire? That was his fault! Zabini spoke up.

Did he start the fire? No. Did he tell her to hide in that closet where she was trapped? No. How the hell it could be his fault?! What the hell has he done to you? she shouted, furious.  

You can't say what you want, but I'm not going near him, declared Jacob Nott and everybody else agreed. 

Victoria looked at them like she wanted to spit in their faces or to choke them to death with her own hands. YOU WON'T BE SATISFIED UNTIL YOU KILL HIM, YOU MURDERERS! YOU MAKE ME SICK! she shouted before running away, like she couldn't stand the very sight of them for a second more. Probably it was so.      

Where is she going? asked Rogette Dull.  

I bet she's running to Malfoy, said Bole, shrugging his shoulders. 

She's crazy, totally crazy. commented Millicent Bulstrode. If I were her, I'd stay as far away as possible from him. I don't wanna lose my life. Do you agree, Blaise? 

The boy didn't answer, lost in his thoughts. Their words, especially Victoria's, kept echoing in his mind. "Nobody can control fate and luck…" "Who will be burned on the stake next time?" "You won't be satisfied until you kill him, you murderers!"

Draco had never thought that one day he would be happy because there were the exams. They were all too busy with revisions to torment him but not enough to drop the whole "bad luck" thing. Then the exams came to an end, and it was all worse then ever. He felt relieved when he got on the train that took them to London. That year, he and Victoria were alone in their compartment. There's something I wanna ask you before we arrive in London, Draco. said Victoria hesitantly when the ride was almost over.        

Tell me. the boy said pacifically. Victoria hadn't seen him so calm for months.  

I know it'll sound stupid, but…I wanna know how you feel. And don't tell me you're okay because I know it's not true. 

Draco looked out of the window. How do I feel? he murmured in a broken voice Trapped. Condemned. Hopeless. Do you remember what I told you once, Torey? There's no salvation nor mercy for Slytherins and Malfoys. I am both. This means a booked place in Hell… he lowered his voice, …even if I don't think that in Hell it could be worse than here.   

Victoria laid a hand on his arm. Do you think that your father will start again with your "training sessions" this summer? she asked after a second. Probably. You saw what happened this year, didn't you?

Maybe… Victoria said hesitantly Maybe in the end we'll defeat Him.

Yeah, but how many lives will it cost? And then…don't forget that there are people like me. The  "caught in the middle" ones. The ones nobody cares about.  

Victoria tightened her hold on his arm. I do care about you, Draco.

I know… he whispered, covering her hand with his own. You're everything I have, Torey. But I get no choice. 

I see. But I'm not ready to give up on you…and I'm not sure I'll ever be, she said as a flash of pride lit her eyes up.   

Thank you, Torey…for everything you did and do. 

Well… she said, blushing and looking away I'm your best friend or not? By the way, I was thinking… Why don't you come to stay with us for a while, this summer? 

In Italy? It'd be great, but I don't know if my father would let me. 

My parents will write him, Victoria said firmly. We'll make him agree. As soon as I arrive at home, I'll start looking for some clothes to lend you. You can't walk around Turin with a cloak. I'm sure you'll like my city. You'll see. There are so many places I want to show you…

You've already organized everything, I see, said Draco, slightly teasing her. 

Victoria blushed crimson. Well…I…

I hope my father will let me come. Draco sighed as the train stopped.    


	7. The Summer

THE SUMMER  

Author's notes: 

1) No, when I say "The Mole" I'm **_not_** talking about spots on human skin, **_nor _**about furry, semi-blind animals, **_nor_** about breakwaters – it takes you about two hours and half by car to go to the seaside from Turin. The Mole Antonelliana (pronounced as it is written) is Turin's most famous monument: looks more like a tower than an animal or a wall. Have you seen the logo for Turin Winter Olympic Games 2006? Yes? No? Anyway, **_that_** is the Mole Antonelliana. More or less…  

2) Carabinieri: Italian military police. 

Draco… said Lucius Malfoy coldly when his son arrived into the dining room. Today I received a letter about you. 

The boy tried to disguise his sudden stiffening on his chair. Luckily, his father didn't notice. Do you know a man called Jeremy Cross? Lucius asked him, putting the roll of parchment down and arching his eyebrows.

Not personally…I think he is Victoria's father. She's one of my Housemates, Draco answered as his heartbeat gradually slowed down.       

This man asks me if you could spend the last months of summer with his family, in Italy…What do you think I should do?  

What you think right, father. the boy murmured, staring at his plate. 

**_Obviously_**, you'll stay at home, said Lucius in a voice that admitted no reply. There are many things you haven't learned yet…  

I beg your pardon. Lucius, but I do not agree. Narcissa said. 

Her husband cast her a slightly puzzled glance. Why not, Narcissa?

You see, I think it would be good for Draco to go away for a while….since we have this offer,  we should accept it.   

Oppositely form her husband, Narcissa always hid her true intentions behind a mask of courtesy. Or, in this case, false motherly love.   

Lucius's mouth curved. What do you want to do, Draco?

Whatever your choice will be, it'll be all right for me, father. 

Very well, the man said putting his napkin beside his plate. We will talk about it later.

That meant that before deciding, Lucius would have checked the Crosses family tree since the Deluge, but Draco was sure he would found no faults. He got on his feet and went back in his room. He closed the door and sighed, silently praying that his parents would allow him to go. 

Maybe somewhere there was a shooting star, because his wish was granted. He had a very hard time disguising his happiness to leave his "home" and spent the last three weeks of the holiday with the person he loved and cared the most. 

By Lucius' order, Narcissa would have taken him to the Crosses. 

And remember… Draco heard him saying …if you see something wrong – you know what I mean – you'll take him back home immediately.

Of course, Lucius.    

After eavesdropping on that conversation, Draco had run in into his room to write a letter to Victoria and warn her. 

Finally came the leaving day. Draco ad Narcissa traveled via Floo Powder Special (for international travels only) to the Cross House. Jeremy and Elena Cross, and naturally their daughter Victoria, were waiting for them in front of the fireplace. It looked like the Crosses had taken the countermeasures Draco had suggested in his letter. There wasn't the smallest trace of Muggle items. The Crosses greeted their guests with polite and cold courtesy and Mrs. Cross made them visit the house. Narcissa looked pleased with the inspection, so she magically transported Draco's luggage and, after coldly saying goodbye to her son and his hosts, she returned in England to report to her husband. As soon as she left, Mr. Cross took off all the spells that disguised all the "Muggle items" that would have had Draco taken back home immediately.   

Welcome to Italy. Mrs. Cross smiled kindly at him.  

Thank you for your invitation, replied Draco happily.

The following day, to his great surprise, Draco woke up early. When he was at home or at school, he preferred to sleep in. His mother and his father said he was a sluggard timewaster, but really he spent so much time sleeping because it was the only way he had to avoid reality. Sleep was his only refuge and to be sure that nothing, not even nightmares, would disturb him, back in his Second Year he had started to take sleeping potions closed in small red capsules. He never needed them during his staying at the Crosses.' His days were more or less the same. In the morning, after Victoria's parents left to go to work – Jeremy was an important member of the International Confederation of Wizards, head of the Department for International Security seconded in Turin, and Elena was a researcher of the International Center of Defense Against Dark Arts – Draco and Victoria went out and walked around Turin, both in the Muggle and Magic part. Draco couldn't have wished for a better guide. Victoria was born and grew up in Turin and loved that city from the bottom of her heart.            

Turin is not Venice or Rome, but it's my city and it's the one I prefer above every other! she said categorically one day, citing the other two greatest magical-mystical cities of the whole Italy.    

Soon Draco discovered at his own expenses that his friend's love for Turin was very infectious. He discovered he not only loved the Magical part of the city but the Muggle one as well. Piazza Castello, the Royal Palace, the Duomo, Carignano Palace, Porte Palatine, the Mole…all those places and those monuments built by mere Muggles fascinated him and then, during a sudden shower, he appreciated via Roma and its arcades. There was only one place in Turin where he didn't feel at ease…         

One Thursday afternoon Draco and Victoria walked along Via Garibaldi from Piazza Castello to Piazza Statuto because Victoria wanted to show him a monument. In the middle of a big flower-bed stood a heap of blocks of stone, like a small mountain. On the mountain, laid marble statues of men and on its top stood a winged statue in bronze.    

It's the monument to the workmen who bored the Frejus tunnel, that connect Italy and France, Victoria explained as both admired it.   

Draco wanted to take a picture of the square and the monument, but to have a good shot he had to cross the street and reach the side walk around another bed-flower quite big. As soon as he set foot on the side walk, a strange shiver ran through him, from head to toe.   

Are you cold? Victoria asked him.

No. he cast her a brief glance and noticed she had grown pale.  

Hurry up with this photo, she urged him. 

Draco took his camera and shot quickly. Usually he spent hours checking the shot, making sure that nothing had been left out and waiting that people and cars had passed by, but that day he barely checked that the subject was in focus.  

You can feel it as well, don't you? he murmured, lowering the camera There's something strange here…

Victoria nodded. We should go

Wait, I wanna know what's going on, he said taking on of the paths that lead to the center of the flower-bed. 

Half-hidden by the trees, in the middle of the flower-bed stood an obelisk with a bronze globe on its top. Draco went near the monument and felt a light chill. He could feel Victoria's presence a few meters behind him.      

Have you noticed? he asked her keeping his voice low, as he was afraid to wake up a sleeping force. Piazza Statuto is a crowded square, full of traffic, and yet… he turned and looked around,  his senses on the alert …and yet the noise doesn't reach this place. The obelisk is the middle of a silence zone.

It's much more… Victoria murmured Have you ever wondered why the International Center of Defense Against Dark Arts is here? Or why there's a detachment of the Department for International Security?

No, Draco admitted, shaking his head. …I've never thought about it. 

Victoria took a deep breathe. As you know, there are Lines of Energy, like Muggle meridians and parallels, that run trough the Earth…they're like cables branching out in every direction. The boy nodded and she went on. Torino is the only city in the whole world crossed by Good Line and Evil Line. She swallowed hard Right now, we're close to the maximum concentration point of the Evil Line…Imagine an underground river that suddenly surfaces forming a spring of water.

This is the spring. Draco murmured, shocked.    

Victoria nodded: It flows right there…On the top of the obelisk, where there's that globe.  

Draco backed away, keeping his eyes on the bronze sphere. Let's go away, he whispered, his gaze unmoved.  

As soon as they crossed the street again, Draco's breathing returned normal and Victoria's cheeks got back their usual color. 

God, I wish that those idiots who accuse you to be a Death Eater saw you.

Why? asked Draco, arching an eyebrow. 

If you were a Death Eater, you'd be inevitably attracted by that Line. But you fought it back, it disgusted you…This is the proof you aren't a Death Eater and you'll never be.   

Draco lowered his gaze. You can't say so, Torey…One day I could become one. 

Not of your free will, replied the girl, absolutely sure. Your soul rejects evil. 

That feeling… murmured Draco It was so **_strong_**…almost like being close to a Dementor.

Victoria hung her head. They say that the Line is fomented by past and present evil souls…Especially present. It started to grow stronger two years ago. To souls predisposed to evil it's like a flame to a moth. Her gaze rose and their eyes met. But you fought it back.    

Draco smiled bitterly. Maybe because I'm not Lucius Malfoy's perfect replica, contrary to popular beliefs.

Victoria laid a hand on his shoulder: Undeniably, you look like him a lot, but… 

But?   

But you aren't Lucius, nor his replica: you are Draco. 

Draco's hand covered hers.

Torey… he murmured after a few minutes. …you said that the Good Line runs through Torino as well. The girl nodded. Would you take me there?

Forty-five minutes later, the two friends walked trough Piazza San Carlo, heading toward an equestrian monument. The sun had begun to set, painting the sky in pink, yellow and dark blue.

Here we are… said the girl, reaching the sidewalk, It's right here, where the horse is.    

Draco didn't say a word. He felt warm, but it wasn't because of the sun. It was like a fire had started in his chest, and now it shone and warmed every part of him. 

Victoria awoke him from his trance. We have…we have to go…I think. 

She'd have preferred to stay there near the statue that stood against the burning sky, wrapped up in a light warmer and brighter than the sun himself. 

Draco couldn't hold back a smile. Whatever the other Houses may think, that Slytherin would never be a Death Eater, he'd bet his own life on her. But he wasn't so sure about himself. 

As long as he stayed in Torino, Draco often came back to Piazza San Carlo, but he always avoided Piazza Statuto.   

During his second week of holiday, he met Victoria's friends. Before Hogwarts, Victoria had attended a private Italian school, where she had met Elisabetta Bercalli and Veronica Pergolesi, two girls very pretty and very nice. They hung around with two funny American witches, Lara Grethco and Elisa Callaway, whose parents worked with Victoria's father.     

At first, Draco had felt a little bit out of place being the only boy in a group of five girls, but soon he had come over his own embarrass. Every afternoon they met at Victoria's house and then they went to the cinema or hung around in town or simply stayed at home, chatting and playing games. Their favorite game was volleyball. They played in the back yard using a rope instead of a net with variable teams of three against three in a reduced ground and with one center and two outsiders. During the first week, Draco had spent quite a long time in that yard, chatting and trying sets, bumps and beats, so he felt at ease.  

And so, one sunny August afternoon, Draco made all his ancestors roll over in their graves playing with Elisabetta and Veronica in the Muggle team against the Witches Team…and winning. After the match, the players sat down on the stairs to rest. 

You owe us a rematch! said Lara, sipping her pumpkin juice. 

So you can lose again? asked Veronica "innocently." 

Draco threw his head back and burst out laughing. 

Victoria looked at him amazed and enchanted. She had known him for years and yet she had never seen him or heard him laugh. 

Elisabetta, who had started to keep an eye on her, didn't fail to notice the almost ecstatic expression she wore on her face. Exactly as she hadn't fail to notice the way her best friend looked at the blond English wizard. As Draco chatted with Lara and Elisa, Elisabetta motioned Veronica to come close. 

I think our little Vicky has been taken prisoner by a pair of beautiful gray eyes, she whispered nodding toward her friend that, instead of listening to the chatting, was looking at Draco with eyes full of stars. 

Veronica smiled and nodded slightly. I noticed. Do you know what? I also think that our friend's not **_completely_** **_indifferent_** to the Englishman.   

Almost confirming her words, Draco turned to throw his characteristic half-smile to Victoria, but it was an half-smile very, very different from the ones he cast at the other girls. 

Since nobody wants drinks anymore, I'll take the bottles back inside. Victoria said, rising and starting to collect bottles and glasses. 

I'll help you, said Draco, jumping to his feet. 

You don't have to…

I insist. Those bottles are too heavy for you. You'll carry the glasses. 

Okay, answered Victoria with a smile. 

Din-don! I can foresee wedding bells for those two, said Elisa as soon as they went into the house.     

You **_foresee_**? said Lara turning to her. As you weren't a total disaster in Divination! 

As you didn't try to guess out of pure luck! Elisa muttered. 

Anyway, that's true. Elisabetta added her two cents. They would be a great couple. It's not exactly a mystery that they fancy each other.  

We all know it, except for themselves, said Elisa.

Lara made a face. I don't think so…In my opinion, they're not as blind as you think.  

Elisabetta nodded silently, caught up in her thoughts. 

But then… Elisa started, but Veronica cut her off immediately. Hush, they're coming back.   

The door opened and the two friends came out. None of the girls failed to notice that Draco chivalrously held the door open for Victoria, who thanked him with a bright smile.  

So, what did we miss? asked the girl, sitting down on a step. 

Absolutely nothing, said Veronica Come on, let's play again! 

Okay! agreed Draco. But this time, me and Torey are going to play on the same team. 

Okay, said Elisabetta, not hiding a smile. 

Damn it, it's so hot today! said Draco, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. 

In that Tuesday of August, he and Victoria had decided to do the nth tour of Torino and now they were in Piazza Castello, under an oppressive heat. 

I like Torino and I wouldn't change anything… said Victoria. …but in certain days I wish there was the sea, and this is one of them. 

Draco was about to answer her when something attracted his attention. There's no sea…but I think I've just found a substitute. He grinned. 

Victoria looked at him puzzled and he nodded towards the fountains. They weren't your average fountains with basins full of golden fishes and big statues in the middle: they looked more like groups of holes in the pavement from which sprung jets of water of various height. Then the water dripped down inside a grill that surrounded the pseudo-fountain.    

You don't mean to… Victoria started, then she shook her head. Oh, the hell with that. Let's go! 

They came near the fountain and put down their backpacks. As soon as Victoria put down hers, Draco pushed her among the jets of water. The girl shrieked and caught him by his arm, pulling him in with her. Then Draco splashed her with some water and Victoria immediately splashed him back. They started splashing each other, laughing like children. Draco felt light and happy, like a boy who didn't have a single problem…And it was the most beautiful feeling of the world. Victoria laughed and threw some water at him, thinking she had never seen him so happy. She was happy too, but she didn't know if that happiness came from the consciousness that Draco was happy or not. Unknowingly, they were both thinking the same thing. There was still a week left to their return to Hogwarts -- plenty of time.       

Okay, kids. I think bath-time is over, said an unknown voice behind them. They turned around to find themselves face to face with two Carabinieri, a man and a woman both in their thirties. The man had black curly hair while the woman had light brown hair – lighter then Victoria's own – pulled into a ponytail.     

I understand that you feel the heat… said the woman, smiling at them …but if you want to have a shower, then do it at home.    

Draco and Victoria came out of the fountain and picked their bags up. 

Come on, go home. 

Aren't you going to fine us? Victoria asked, surprised. 

Not today. It's too hot…And now be gone before I change my mind. 

The two friends walked away quickly.

What's wrong with you today, Anna? asked the man, puzzled. Usually you don't let anybody get away so easily…  

The Carabiniere shrugged her shoulders. Usually I don't run into Romeo and Juliet's modern version splashing in a fountain.  

I think that Fellini's "Dolce vita" would be more adequate, but how can Shakespeare fit in? 

The woman smiled amused. Haven't you seen how they looked at each other before we stopped them? If they aren't a couple yet, then it's going to happen soon.  

I didn't notice.

Anna rolled her eyes. Men never notice anything. 

Five minutes later, Draco and Victoria arrived at home via Floo Powder. 

My goodness, we're all covered in soot! said the girl, getting back to her feet.  

And wet. It's better if we change our clothes, Draco suggested.

I agree. Hey, have you noticed that you got yourself a cut? she said, pointing to the back of his right forearm. Two cm. under his wrist there was a long cut that bled slightly.   

I'll change, then I'll put something on it, said the boy, swiftly inspecting the cut. It's just a scratch. 

A scratch quite deep.

Draco shrugged his shoulders and went into his room. 

A couple of minutes later, Victoria came in with a bottle of oxygenated water and a bundle of cotton. I've brought you… her voice died in her throat.   

When she had entered the room, her best friend was taking off his dirty t-shirt and had his back turned toward her. The girl almost dropped the thing she held, seeing his back covered with marks. Draco blushed deeply and turned around, hiding his scars from her view. 

Oh my God, Draco, but…what…let me have a look! she said going near him.  

No! replied the boy firmly. It's nothing, really… he added, trying to get the t-shirt he had left on his bed, but Victoria was faster than him.

I would not call what I have just seen "nothing." And that isn't nothing: she said, pointing to an almost-faded bruise on his shoulder. 

What happened? Who did this to you? 

Draco lowered his gaze and muttered something. She barely caught the words "my father". 

Why?

Many reasons…and none at the same time, he smiled sadly Our dear Housemates are not the only ones to think I'm a complete disaster… 

That's not a good reason to reduce your back to that state…My God, do the teacher know? And the boys in your dorm? 

Draco shook his head. Nobody knows…nobody had to know. 

Not even me, she whispered with a mixture of anger and sadness in her voice. 

Not even you. 

Silence. A long and difficult silence. 

Finally Victoria found again her courage to speak. Why have you never told me? 

I've already told you, Torey… Draco couldn't look at her face. Nobody had to know. If my father knew that you've found out… He didn't have the strength to go on. 

What did he do to you?   

The boy raised his gaze for a second, then came back to stare at the floor. Believe me….you don't want to know. 

They fell silent again and then Draco spoke as he put on his t-shirt. You must promise me you won't tell anyone, Torey.

But…

No buts. It's my problem, not yours.  

This time it was Victoria who lowered her eyes. I thought we were friends, Draco

We are. But it has nothing to do with this, has it?

Yeah, it has… she replied, looking at him in the eyes. Because if we are friends, **_true_** friends, then your problems are mine as well.  

Draco looked suddenly embarrassed. You're my best friend, Torey, really…but believe me, it's better if you stay out of this. I'm serious.

How can I be your friend and stay out of this? Friends **_don't_** do these things , Draco! Now Victoria was really starting to lose her temper. 

I know. But I have my reasons.

Suddenly Victoria realized how tired Draco was. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally tired.  

Please, Torey, listen to me. I don't wanna fight with you as well.

All right, she said slowly after a moment of thinking. I'll do as you wish. But…if you ever need anything… 

I can count on you. I know and I'm immensely thankful.  

Suddenly he came near her and softly caressed her cheek. Victoria started. During the school year, they both had unconsciously started to avoid physical contact and now she burned under his gentle touch.  

You're everything I have, Torey, Draco whispered.   

The two came closer still, and maybe they would kiss, but… The imperious ring of the phone interrupted them. They broke apart quickly, as they had been caught doing something forbidden. Victoria ran to pick up the phone and Draco was left alone. 

The hated, feared last day of the holiday came. The morning had been spent walking around Torino for the last time with a last visit to Piazza San Carlo. In the afternoon, there had been a small party with Veronica, Elisabetta, Lara, and Elisa. But now the party was over. Victoria was saying goodbye to her friends. Draco was alone in the garden and watched sadly the table covered with  plastic plates and glasses, more or less empty, cards and games piled under a tree, and swags and banners that Elisabetta and Veronica had hung from the linden to the magnolia. The sun was slowly setting. The boy let out a sigh. Victoria laid a hand on his shoulder, then she went to fuss over the stereo, now silent, that had been working for the whole afternoon, filling the garden with music. Suddenly the music started again. The stereo played a song from the '70s quite cheerful in spite of its lyrics that told the story of a final goodbye.           

_  
…Why did things turn out so bad?  
Was it just a dream, everything we did, everything we had?_

Draco rose to his feet and approached Victoria, holding her in his arms. They started dancing in the twilight.  

Baby, give me one more  
Dance while the music still goes on  
Don't think about tomorrow  
Dance and forget our time is gone  
Tonight's a night we borrow.  
Let's make it a memory, a night of our own  
A thing to remember when we're all alone  
So dance, it's our way to say goodbye  
Yes, all we have to do is  
Dance while the music still goes on  
This is no time for crying  
Dance, don't you hear them play our song  
God knows that we've been trying  
But we didn't make it 'cause nothing's the same  
We just couldn't help it, nobody's to blame  
So dance while the music still goes on  
And let it be our last goodbye  
  


They danced among the remains of  the summer now ended, both lost in those words and in the other's eyes. Dark times were waiting for them, like clouds in the sky before a storm and they couldn't do anything to avoid it. They could only dance. 

Yet it seems to make me sad.  
Why did things turn out so bad?  
Was is it just a dream, everything we did, everything we had?  
  


Those days in Torino had been the happiest of their lives, but now they were over, they had passed away soon like a dream. Next day they were going to come back fighting and it was unavoidable. 

Baby, give me one last  
Dance while the music still goes on  
Just like the night I met you  
Dance and believe me, when you're gone  
You know I won't forget you  
Our love was a snowbird, it's flying away  
You tell me it's over, what more can I say?  
So dance while the music still goes on  
It's gonna be our last goodbye  
Dance while the music still goes on  
Don't think about tomorrow  
Dance and forget our time is gone  
Tonight's a night we borrow.  
Let's make it a memory, a night of our own  
A thing to remember when we're all alone  
So dance while the music still goes on  
And let it be our last goodbye  
  


Victoria had never told anyone, not even her friends, but she had wished that that day wouldn't come, that the summer wouldn't end, that she and Draco could stay in Torino forever. Maybe it was the song, maybe the desolation of the end of the summer, but she feared it was some kind of goodbye.  

_Dance while the music still goes on  
This is no time for crying  
Dance, don't you hear them play our song  
God knows that we've been trying…  
Dance while the music still goes on_

_Just like the night I met you…_

The music started to fade. Draco and Victoria broke apart, standing face to face for some seconds. Then the boy bowed quickly and grazed her forehead with his lips. When he stepped back, Victoria saw a shadow in his eyes, like a regret. Of what sort, she couldn't understand. The next song started, but Victoria turned the stereo off. She didn't want to hear it. She heard Draco's footsteps on the steps and the door closing. She raised her eyes, watching the sun disappearing behind the hills as in her head echoed the last verses of the song.   

  __

_"…Dance and believe me, when you're gone_

_You know I won't forget you"_

Draco had kissed her right when those words had been sung. They were marked in her memory. They almost sounded like a promise. She recovered and came back inside. She had to pack her things. The garden was empty.   


	8. Sixth Year

SIXTH YEAR 

Author's note: In Turin, where Victoria was born and lives, there are two football teams: Juventus Turin and Torino, a.k.a. Toro. Juventus Turin is a rich team that always win while Toro is not so lucky…let's say it is not lucky at all! Juventus fans' favorite sport, apart from winning, is mocking Toro's fans because we're in the lower Championship. Toro's fans and Juve's fans absolutely **_hate_** each other. In a way, they kinda remind me of Gryffindors and Slytherins….But I'm not here to hold a conference about Juventus and Toro, I just wanted to explain this because it makes what it is said later more clear.  

Well, I think you can guess which team I do support…And now, let's go on with the show.    

Victoria and Draco walked together through the barrier of platform 9 and ¾. 

Here we go again, Victoria muttered, seeing some Slytherins casting her friend looks of pure hatred and fear. Draco didn't comment. He didn't say a word until they reached Hogwart's gates. "_Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate_". Welcome to Hell. ["Abandon all hope ye that enter here". Dante Alighieri, "Divina Commedia," Hell.]    

Victoria was deeply depressed. Since the previous evening she had been watching Draco's happiness fade little by little. It was like watching a flower wither and die of thirst. She wanted to make him feel better, but she didn't know what to do.     

Some say that "If you think you reached the bottom, just look down." Victoria often thought it during that year, when things started to fall apart. Voldemort was back, that was no mystery, as it wasn't a mystery that he was gaining strength. If it was possible, the other Houses were colder then ever toward Slytherins, who obviously blamed it on Draco. After all, he wasn't only a jinx, he was also the son of a Death Eater. But this wasn't enough…Victoria was sure that something else ailed her friend: Draco had  always been very reserved about his family life, but during the previous years, thanks to half-sentences escaped from his lips, she had guessed that his parent-child relationship wasn't one of the best, especially with his father. Those scars she had seen on his back that summer day had only confirmed her worst hypothesis, but now there was something else. She could feel it clearly. She felt it in the air she breathed around him, but she couldn't understand what it was and he didn't talk about it. Truth to be told, he scarcely talked at all by now. He was estranged for all the things around him, he was drifting away from all of them, losing himself in his own thoughts. It wasn't definitely a good thing, and it didn't save him from suffering because of all the things the others said and done.       

One day, at the beginning of October, he and Victoria talked on the lake banks…but maybe "talk" was not the right word. The girl tried to discover what ailed him, but all she got were obscure, enigmatic sentences.   

Have you ever felt like you're going to break? he asked her after a long silence. 

Do you feel that way? 

I am a Malfoy. he replied Malfoys never surrender.  

There's nothing that can't be broken or cut, she reminded him. 

His answer was a shrugging of his shoulders. His gaze was lost into the lake depths. That's a damned thing when one wants to surrender and can never do it. Being trapped for life in a model you didn't choose…     

You can always rebel. Try to run, Victoria suggested.

No. He shook his head I can't. Whatever road I'd chose, it'd mean death.

Victoria swallowed hard. I…I don't understand what you mean, Draco. Her voice shook. 

For the first time in more than an hour, Draco rose his head to look at her. I think you understood perfectly. 

Victoria shivered, and it wasn't because of the soft breeze. She had understood. 

If Draco refused to join the Dark Side, his father would kill him. However, yielding meant meeting his death by Aurors or Dumbledore's partisans' hands as he fought for a cause that wasn't his own. In one way or another, his fate was sealed. 

Is… Victoria started, but Draco answered her question before she finished it.

No, there's no way to avoid it.

You could spy for Dumbledore, the girl proposed, pulling up blades of grass from the ground. 

They'd never believe me, the boy murmured, staring at the lake, and the sad thing was that he was right.      

When will your…"initiation" take place? she asked hesitantly.  

Draco sighed, After my seventeenth birthday.  

That means after May 26th, Victoria murmured. They'll have to wait until school is over.   

Well… said Draco, trying to look optimistic That leaves some time to get out of this mess. On my own. He added, casting her a piercing glance. 

That was the last time that Draco and Victoria **_really_** talked together. Since that day, started drifting away more and more. Victoria called it "be out of mind" because he looked stuck in trance. She tried to talk to him, but it was like talking with a wall. Draco tried to make her believe he was all right, but she couldn't accept useless lies. This situation reminded Victoria of a balloon her parents had bought her during a festival when she was a little girl. She was on the ground and he flew in the sky, not very high. The only thing that linked him to the world was through a thin twine tied to her wrist. Suddenly, the knot that held the twine had come loose and the balloon had flown away in the clouds. Draco was like that balloon and the twine that linked him to Earth was their relationship…But how long would the knot last? That year the situation was so bad that Draco preferred to go home for the Christmas break. When he came back, he had got worse, if it was possible, just like the rumors about him had got worse.   

One of the most ardent believers of  "Malfoy's evil eye" was Ronald Weasley, who wanted to pay him back for four years of insults. One day, in a corridor, Victoria watched a particularly hard confrontation between those two. By now it was rare that Draco answered a provocation. 

Go to Hell, Malfoy! Potter shouted at him, restraining his friend Ron from jumping at Draco after he had said one of his old bitter remarks on Weasley's economic situation.        

Draco's reaction surprised everyone. He looked at the three Gryffindors and his lips curled in a smirk that once had been his trademark.  

I am already there, Potter. I am already there, he repeated a second time, his voice lower. Then he went away laughing. Victoria was frozen both by his unpleasant laughter, by the tone of his voice when he had answered, and by his eyes as he said that sentence -- far away, cold…lost.  

She didn't know that Blaise Zabini had assisted at that scene as well. 

******

Blaise Zabini looked around for the hundredth time: no one. He had to decide quickly. He could go or come back, but he had to do it right now before someone caught him out of bed. With a sigh, he ran across the lawn lit by the moonlight toward the lake. He passed through the bushes and saw Draco Malfoy, lying on his back in the small clearing, his hands clasped on his chest. Blaise shivered. In the pale light he almost looked dead.  

The boy turned his head toward him. Oh, it's you… He didn't do anything to hide the evident disappointment in his voice. 

You missed the meeting this evening, said Blaise, who was on the Quidditch team as Chaser.  

I sat here, thinking… Draco murmured, staring at the sky above them. Trying to understand if it could really be my fault! 

Zabini starred at his feet, deeply ashamed.  

Maybe… said Draco, his voice broken by uncried tears. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should just thrown myself down the roof, do you agree? Wouldn't this be the best thing for everyone? 

Well… said Zabini, embarrassed. Maybe…Well, I just wanted to say that maybe this bad luck thing went…a little bit out of control. 

**_A little bit out of control?_** repeated Draco, disgusted. Oh, don't you worry, Zabini…You just **_underhandedly _**ruined my life, but don't you worry. That's all right.

I… I'm sorry.    

Draco rose on his feet and came near the other boy.

I think it's a little bit too late, he hissed in a icy voice. Maybe being Lucius Malfoy's son makes me a good target for this kind of thing…But I'm fed up with it. I won't put up with it anymore. And in a way or another I draw back, is that clear, Zabini?

He passed around his Housemate and headed toward the castle. Zabini dropped on the ground, burying his face in his hands. 

My God, what have we done? he murmured, his eyes shut. But even so, he couldn't erase Draco's disparate and almost aghast eyes from his mind.    

It was March 7th . Two months and nineteen days to Draco's seventeenth birthday.  

Days started to come and go faster and faster. Soon it was May. 

On the evening of May 11th, fifteen days before her best friend's birthday, Victoria slipped into Draco's room, once known as "sixth year boys' dorm." He was the only one who slept there. The other boys didn't want to stay in the same room. All the lights were off and the curtains were open. The room was dusky. It was hard to make out the shape of furniture. In the faint light, they looked completely different. The girl headed toward one of the beds without waiting for her eyes to become used at the faint light. She had often found the room like that. Draco liked dusk. She was the only one who knew that in the twilight he felt safe. 

Nor light, nor darkness… he had told her when he had confessed to her this "weakness." Caught in the middle. Just like me. Maybe that's why I feel so well in faint light.     

The boy who had said those words now laid on the bed with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping. 

Victoria sat down by his side. Draco caught her hand and squeezed it tightly.  

Torey…

Drac…

He opened his eyes. 

Just fifteen days. I don't know what to do. 

School won't be over until June…There's still time left, she tried to reassure him

 Not much, but is there something you wanted to talk about? he asked, sitting up.  

Well…do you remember when I was a First year and you a Second…and you hinted that I should have gone in Gryffindor?

Draco nodded in the dark.   

Well…I just wanted to say that I'm glad to be here. Being a Slytherin is a challenge…and I love challenges. And then, if I was a Gryffindor…well, I'd never know you. I can't and I don't wanna imagine my life without you. 

This sounds terribly close to a declaration, Torey… said Draco, smiling amusedly.

Maybe it is… the girl murmured without looking at him. 

His smile faded away from his lips. Victoria rose to go away, but Draco caught her by her arm. 

Let's talk about it, okay? he asked, softly forcing her to sit down again. 

There's not much to talk about…

There is… Draco replied uneasily. I hoped that it wouldn't happen, Torey…Because now it's more difficult. 

What is difficult? the girl asked, not understanding. 

Keeping myself from doing this, he whispered before kissing her.     

He broke apart from her after a few seconds. I'm sorry, Torey…You are beautiful, you're the best girl in the whole world, but…I can't be who we both wish I was, he murmured, lowering his eyes. 

Why? It makes no sense at all…

Oh, yes, it does. I have caused you enough trouble as your friend, I don't wanna think about what would happen if I was your boyfriend. he couldn't repress a shiver.    

But you want to be my boyfriend? she asked, looking for his eyes. 

More than anything in the world.

Then be it. 

He shook his head. I can't.

Yes, you can. Even if it'd be for a night only… she came near him, grazing his leg with her own and barely touching his face with her hand. 

No. It wouldn't be right. I will hurt you, Torey… 

No, you won't. she whispered, kissing his face and his neck. Do you remember the song we danced to when we were at my house the day before coming back here? It said: "_Don't think about tomorrow/Tonight's a night we borrow/Let's make it a memory, a night of our own/A thing to remember when we're all alone." _We can do like this.   

There wasn't much light, and yet she saw him closing his eyes. 

Just once, damn the others and every consequence, she whispered before brushing his lips with her own. _Ti amo_. 

Draco started kissing her face, unable to stop. I love you too, Torey, he whispered against her lips. I love you.  

In the dusky room, nothing else existed but them and their love. 

When Victoria opened her eyes the morning after, she found Draco watching her. 

Come on, say it… she mumbled, sitting up and holding the sheets against her chest. …say it was only a mistake. I can see it all over your face. 

You're right… Draco whispered, coming near her. It was a terrible mistake… his lips grazed her shoulder. 'Cause I don't think that everything will be as it used to between us nor that I can be okay after one night. I wanna keep on feeling like this every day.

How? Victoria asked, uncertain.   

Their eyes met.

Like your boyfriend. 

Victoria kissed him. You are my boyfriend.

They kissed again, then they started getting ready for the new day that was beginning out of the window.  

Before going out and facing the world, Draco held Victoria in his arms. I don't know what will happen when I come back home, nor where this will take us, but there's something I know… Victoria was looking at him with her violet eyes, waiting. He cast one of his half-smiles, but it looked different from the others. I love you so much I can't find the words to tell you and I won't let anyone break us apart easily.   

Victoria's eyes sparkled. I love you…I can't think of anything else I could say.  

Another half-smile. You don't have to say anything else. He kissed her. 

Ready to face the ret of the world?

They don't scare me.

******

On May 19th there was the last Quidditch Match of the year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor again fighting for the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. Again Malfoy versus Potter. Draco didn't care, not anymore. His teammates left him alone in the changing room again. He didn't even realize it. When he raised his gaze, Victoria stood in front of him.    

How are you? she asked him.                                      

Draco got on his feet and hugged her as tight as he could. Better, now that I've hugged my amulet.  

Really a great amulet. I've never worked against Gryffindors nor against those stupid rumors. 

Nothing works against Gryffindors and idiots, he sighed, resignedly.

Now, now, she told him, laying a hand on his shoulder.  

Draco pulled himself together. I must go. But… He turned around again, holding her in his arms and kissing her passionately. 

_Ti amo_, Victoria, he whispered  You're my queen.  

He kissed her again. Outside, Guthlac called him but he didn't care. 

_Anch'io ti amo_, Draco, Victoria whispered. 

He wordlessly freed himself from the embrace and marched toward the door that led to the Quidditch pitch where the others were waiting for him. At the threshold, he turned again to blow her a kiss and whisper to her one last time. I love you. See ya after our defeating, I mean, the match.    

Victoria waved at him and told him her last "I love you" before he went off to join the rest of the team. Then she headed to her usual place on the stands. It was a good place. It allowed her to follow every move of the Seekers (or rather **_the_** Seeker) wherever they flew.    

That match would be remembered as the most fought in the whole history of Hogwarts…but it would be remembered especially for another reason.   

The teams had been playing for two hours and now they were equal: eighty to eighty. The Snitch had been sighted three times, but neither Draco nor Harry Potter had been able to catch it. Draco had never been so careless. Victoria couldn't tear her eyes away from him and she had mechanically tore into pieces a handkerchief.    

Finally, after two hours and twenty minutes from the start, both the Seekers dove toward the golden ball that went down toward the ground almost vertically. Draco followed its dive with a dangerous move. Harry Potter, more careful, had been left behind and now was trying to regain his position. Victoria clutched feverishly her green-and-white scarf, following the blonde Seeker with her eyes. Suddenly, something else entered her eyeshot. She jumped on her feet screaming, but it was too late. Concentrated on the difficult maneuver, Draco didn't realize what was happening. He didn't hear Victoria's cry nor the hiss of the Bludger until it hit him, throwing him down his broom. He barely had time to realize he was falling before he hit the ground. He fell from four meters high – a short fall, too short to let anyone have time to react. The last thing he saw was the bright sky above him. Victoria Cross ran to the first row, jumped down the stand and started running to him, but Profesor Snape blocked her. Gryffindors' cry of joy when Seamus Finnigan, the new speaker, had announced the victory of their team had died out, just like Slytherins' cry of disappointment. The stadium droned with the students' murmurs, who had understood that there was something wrong.               

He's faking it, muttered Ron Weasley to his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. That damned ferret wants to attract attention another time. 

Harry Potter had caught the Golden Snitch as Draco fell and now he was stuck in the air, staring at his eternal, fallen rival as the teachers started to approach. 

Come on, get up. he murmured in a low voice, like a prayer. Come on, Draco, I know you're okay. You're faking it as usual. Come on, get up. I know you're faking it, I know…  

A few meters away from him, Blaise Zabini was pleading more or less the same.  

Madam Pomfrey and professor Sinistra were the first to reach the boy. The nurse knelt by him and laid a hand on his chest, then on the base of his neck. She raised her face. Her gaze met the teacher's kneeling by the sixteen-year-old Seeker and she shook her head. 

Draco Malfoy was dead. 

Selene Sinistra leaned forward and closed his eyes with her fingertips. 

Form that simple gesture, they all understood that Draco Malfoy would never get up again. 

Hermione Granger dropped her binoculars. Professor McGonagall covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Victoria Cross stopped fighting against professor Snape and slumped down on the ground with a sob. The stadium was deadly silent, everyone seemed frozen in his place. The only sound was Victoria Cross' sobs. Her face totally hidden by her dark hair and the black school uniform made her look like a bundle of rags.   

It was May 19th. 

One week later, Draco would have turned seventeen.   

In her trunk, in the fifth year girls' dorm, Victoria Cross had hidden the gift she had bought him and that was only waiting to be wrapped up in paper. 

That evening, Harry Potter sat in Gryffindor Common Room, staring at the fire. 

Don't be so hard with yourself, Harry. It wasn't your fault, Hermione whispered, sitting down beside him. He broke his neck, he didn't suffer. He didn't even realize he was dieing.

How can you be so sure? he asked, casting her a brief glance and then turning to stare at the flames again. I could catch him… said the Boy-who-lived in a broken, far away voice. I was right by his side…I could catch him.

It wasn't your fault, Hermione insisted, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

Try to think that…that's an enemy down. Ron suggested, earning himself a dirty look from Hermione.

Victoria Cross doesn't quite think like you do. She shook her head Poor girl. Everybody knows that she was in love with Malfoy.   

Harry didn't speak. 

At the same time, professor Snape entered Slytherin Common Room and sat down on one of the black sofa, the same one where Draco used to sit on when he read. He heard footsteps approaching and he saw Victoria Cross coming out from the girls' dorm, holding against her chest a small box, sheets of  pearl-white wrapping paper, a roll of silver ribbon, a pair of scissors, and Spell-o-tape. She put everything down on a table near the fireplace and started wrapping up the box. When she finished, she inspected her work carefully. Apparently, it wasn't good enough, so she ripped away the paper and started again. The fifth try was more than perfect. She tied the ribbon around the packet and started curling it with her scissors. She looked like a robot. When finally the package was done, she slipped a birthday card under the ribbon and came back to her dorm. 

Professor Snape followed her with his eyes, allowing himself not to hide all his worry. 

The next evening, in a small room in the dungeons – the same one where Cedric Diggory had been laid years ago – was the funeral vigil. There were professor Dumbledore, professor Snape, professor Sinistra, and the Prefects Hermione Granger for Gryffindor, Millicent Bulstrode for Slytherin, Terry Boot for Ravenclaw and Justin Finch-Fletchley for Hufflepuff. Nobody spoke. Three of the four prefects tried to have a look at their clocks, Bulstrode included. The door opened and Victoria Cross came in. She held against her chest the box she had packaged the previous evening. Snape recognized immediately the white-pearl paper and the silver ribbon. She came near the coffin – a dark, heavy mahogany coffin, surely expansive, too big for the small boy it held – and she put the packet inside. Then, she sat in a corner far from the other people. Under the candlelight, the writings on the birthday card sparkled with different colors. There was written "26th May 2003. Happy Birthday, Draco." More than an hour passed before Victoria spoke. All the Prefects except Hermione had come back to their dorms. 

Professor Dumbledore, professor Snape…  she said in a low voice. Draco's mother will come tomorrow morning, won't she?   

The two men nodded.     

Speaking of it, his belongings haven't been packed yet… murmured Snape.

That's what I wanted to talk about. I'd pack his things, if you let me. Tear gathered in her violet eyes. I don't wanna  stranger to touch his things…  

The two men exchanged a glance. 

I think there's no problem about this, Dumbledore said.

Thank you. She went back to her seat and didn't leave it anymore.

The morning after, Victoria Cross didn't go to class. After breakfast, the girl came back in Slytherins' dungeon, and, while everyone else got ready, she entered Draco's room – she'd never be able to call that place "sixth year boys' dorm" – closing the door behind herself. As usual, the room was perfectly tidy, thanks both to the House Elves and to Draco's natural tidiness. Victoria opened his trunk and started to put away carefully her boyfriend's belongings. It was a task very painful, but she wouldn't let someone else do it for anything in the world. She started from his clothes, but even putting away the school uniform, identical to the robe of hundreds of other Slytherin students, was hard. Because it wasn't common uniform, it was **_his _**uniform. When she started folding his old fancy robes – Mrs. Malfoy had written to make him wear the new one that he had never wore – she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the Yule Ball, that perfect evening now so far away…A single tear fell on the black fabric. The Quidditch uniform – green sweater and tunic with white trousers – maybe were the most difficult things to put away. She kept seeing him with those clothes on, standing on the threshold of the door that lead to the pitch as he told her "I love you" and "See ya…", the half-smile that hovered upon his lips, the light of the warm springy  sun that surrounded him and danced upon his blonde hair. It had made her think about an angel not for the first time. Then she saw him falling, lying on the ground, she saw professor Sinistra closing his eyes…She shook her head, dispersing those images. 

She started packing his personal belongings. Her heart was heavy as the trunk swallowed the Playing Top, the discs with the opera music he always listened to, and his favorite books he'd never reread again. Tears clouded her vision but she blinked them away and tried hard not to cry.   

Until, after many hesitations, she opened the third drawer of his nightstand. She knew that Draco kept there the things he held dearer to his heart, but she didn't know what to expect. He had told her where he hid the key but he had never told her what he kept there, nor had she asked. Now she was almost scared to violate his privacy. But she had no choice, so she opened the lock and pulled the handle. The first thing to catch her eyes was a metallic box filled with more than fifty images of Turin between postcards and photo. Divided in four piles, each one of them tied with a green ribbon, were all the letters she had written to him during four summers. There was the lock of hair she had given him when they had parted for the first time tied with a lilac ribbon and closed into a little glass box, so it wouldn't be ruined. A couple of photo albums full of pictures of landscapes, of them together or of one of them alone were there, but not a single picture of his father and his mother. She found her own photo in a silver frame. In a little wooden box she found the three  badges: "Torino football club", the Italian football team she supported and of which he had been nominated "Honorary Fan" because he had always been beaten by Gryffindors, just like her beloved team had always lost his competition against Juventus Turin. She remembered the "ceremony of awarding of the badges" held in an August afternoon in her garden back at home and she stopped holding back her tears. She sat on Draco's bed and cried, hiding her face against the green cover. 

Draco was buried in the family graveyard three days later. There weren't many people. They were all adults and friends of his parents. Hogwarts students had at least the decency not to show up after what they had done. The only person under her thirties was Victoria Cross, in her black uniform with the green and white striped tie. She had pinned her Torino badge on her chest near the symbol of her House. By her side stood professor Snape, who had volunteered to escort her as he was going to attend the funeral as well. The only two persons who ever cared about Draco stood side by side in that bright May morning. Victoria couldn't help but stare at the Malfoys. They didn't look grieved, nor sad, nor sorry for the way they had always treated their only son, that wonderful boy that now was no more. Instead they looked bored and annoyed for the nth trouble that "that little useless idiot" had caused them. The wind started blowing and the sunlight suddenly went out. Victoria raised her eyes to the sky above and she saw that the sun had been covered by gray clouds. A raindrop fell on her forehead and soon a storm broke out. The Malfoys and the others wrapped themselves tightly in their cloaks and made some umbrellas appear from nowhere, muttering that the weather forecast hadn't foretold rain and hoping that the priest would hurry. Victoria didn't listen to the ceremony and stepped out from the shelter that Snape's umbrella offered, watching the cloudy sky. She let the rain slide down her face, looking upward and smiling at the sky.        

It's a sign, she told professor Snape when she saw his puzzled face. 

The professor looked more puzzled than ever, but she didn't care. He didn't know. He didn't know that Draco had always loved rain. 

They placed the sepulchral monument, a crying woman leaning against the gravestone where there were the young boy's photo, name, date of birth and date of death. There was also something else: the funerary epigraph, written in the three languages Draco had loved the most, English, Italian and Latin. The translations were written side by side:       

Known by many,                                   Conosciuto da molti                        Multis notus Understood by few,                              Capito da pochi                               A paucis cognitus  Taken from the evil to come                Strappato dal male a venire            A malo futuro erepto A week before turning seventeen.        Una settimana prima                       Prope initio septimo 

_                                                                     di compiere diciassett'anni.      - septem dies aberant - _

_anno decimo._

Those words had been written by Victoria, except for the third line. That verse came from Draco's favorite poem, "Johnnie Sayre" from "Spoon River Anthology." Rain kept on falling and half an hour later, when Snape, Dumbledore, and Victoria left the graveyard, it hadn't stopped yet. Victoria tried to hide a smile – the first one in days – at the sight of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy soaked to the bones.     

You're terrible, Draco, she whispered, looking at the sky. I'll miss you… she added, wiping away a teardrop. 

Victoria came back to Hogwarts with the two older teachers. School wasn't over yet. 

After Draco's death, nobody dared to talk about his curse. Down in their hearts and in their consciences, they knew that their schoolmate's death had been more a suicide than an accident, and it had been them to push him on that path.   

Nobody dared to look Victoria in the eyes, and yet they felt the weight of her accusing looks.  

******

The last school day came and during the farewell speech the deceased student was commemorated. But, differently from Cedric Diggory's commemoration, everything sounded untrue and unfelt. Victoria was disgusted by their sad and serious faces. Even Dumbledore's speech sounded artificial and false. She couldn't stand it. So she jumped on her feet and ran away from the Great Hall, from all that hypocrisy. She ran until she reached Draco's refuge on the lake banks, as if she expected to find him there, but the clearing was empty. Victoria dropped on the ground and burst into tears. She didn't hear professor Snape approaching until he laid a hand on her shoulder. The man noticed that she was crying, holding tightly in her hands a picture of her and Draco on a bridge over a great river. It had been taken the previous summer in Turin. Suddenly, the teacher remembered where he had already seen the same photo. Someone had put it in Draco's hands, so he would hold it against his chest forever. The only difference between  the two photos were the dedications written upon them.     

"To Draco Flavius, 'cause I know that even without this, he'll never forget me or Torino. Forever, Victoria," said the first.

"To my darling Victoria – my little Torey – who will always held a special place in my heart. Forever, Draco Flavius M," said the second.    

A lump closed his throat and he didn't know what to say to the crying girl. He left as noiselessly as he had come. Victoria stayed there…and she cried. 


	9. Back to the present

Author's note: I just wanted to thank all the wonderful people who reviewed: I swear I never got so many reviews for a story! 

A special "thank you" to my wonderful beta-reader Daughter of Olorin, for all the her work. THX!

And now, let's start with the last act…

The man ended here his tale, but it wasn't enough to me. 

So Draco became a ghost. But that girl…Victoria Cross…what happened to her? I asked hesitantly, fearing his answer.  

The old man's gaze was lost far away. She left this world long ago. 

Oh.

I lowered my eyes on my hydromel. Listening to his story had been incredible. Through his words I had almost **_lived_** that story…It was like hearing it from someone who had lived it personally. Who could he be? Not a simple schoolmate of the protagonists, but one of them.  

Does he often play tricks like that to the travelers? I asked, remembering how scared I had been. 

The man shrugged his shoulders. No, not very often. Truth to be told, he doesn't go around very much. He's a quiet ghost, he prefers to stay alone. 

Then why…

He answered my question before I could finish it. Even ghosts needs company, sometimes. 

I see… I murmured. 

My eyes fell on my watch. **_O mon Dieu!_** It's really late! I got up and started to put on my coat Thank you for telling me this story. 

He cast me a half-smile. Thank you for listening.

I paid for my drink and we left the pub together. 

Do you need a lift? I asked him. 

No, thank you. You've already done a lot. Another half-smile and he started to go away. He turned around one last time to wave slightly at me. His eyes sparkled in the light coming from the pub. Gray blue-veined eyes, like two pools of liquid mercury. He couldn't…could he? I stood there frozen, watching him as he walked away in the dark. 

He entered the circle of light thrown by a streetlamp and I startled: he wasn't an old man, but a blonde sixteen boy. He waved at me one last time and then he left, swallowed by the shadows he belonged to. I stayed there, stunned, unable to return both the wave and the distant smile. I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the circle, maybe expecting him to reappear suddenly. The church clock struck the hours and the bells' ring reached me, awaking me. I got in the car and drove away, but I couldn't stop thinking about the story he had told me. His story. Suddenly, I realized that nobody knew that story, nobody else but me. Its protagonists and occasional extras had died long ago or they had gone missing in the windings of life and probably they wouldn't be so anxious to divulge it. I wondered if this was the reason why Draco had come to me -- so I'd tell his story.  I thought a lot about this. Finally, I decided I'd tell the rest of the world his story. So I did, and this is nothing but the truth. 

Josephine Carol Rowland. 

Final author's note: Well, my friend, this is the end… More or less. There will be a sequel about Victoria coming out soon.  

Thank you again for reading and reviewing. 

See you soon.  

Lilya


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